“I got orders to keep with you, that’s all.” Arnold did not appear hostile—quite the contrary, in fact—but his attitude was determined. “You ain’t been using your eyes real good, have you?”
“Seems not.” Robinson frowned. “Orders to meet me? How in thunder did you get ’em?”
Arnold grinned. “Smoke signal. Do you agree? I’d sure hate to have any trouble with a red-headed gent that had knowed Pete Hendricks, but at the same time I aims to obey orders——”
“No apologies necessary.” Robinson laughed softly. “Arnold, I guess you and I will hitch without any trouble. So Jake is using Injun smoke signals, is he? Same old boy as ever. Where is he?”
“Comin’ behind you, I reckon,” said Arnold dryly.
Robinson uttered a low whistle. “The darned old fox! So that’s who it was! Let’s ride, cowboy; let’s ride.”
Arnold turned his horse, and they rode stirrup to stirrup.
CHAPTER III
ROBINSON’S PARTNER
Jake Harper had once been a very large man. Now he was a little bowed with age, a bit heavy with superfluous flesh, his hair quite white, his face seamed with heavy lines. The old eyes were keen as ever; the heavy mustache, fresh dyed a lustrous black, gave the beholder a decided shock when contrasted with white hair and brows. He rode a huge, rawboned beast whose eye was roving and vicious—a brute named Celestine. No man but Jake had ever ridden her, and no man wanted to. Celestine had a reputation.