They were close to Cannondale when another of the judge’s riders joined them. The lathered flanks of his pony told of a hard ride. He swayed in his saddle as he sought out his boss.
“Judge, they jumped us an’ downed Hank and Bill. They got me in the shoulder——”
“And those two hundred two-year-olds?”
The judge knew the answer even before he asked the question.
“They run ’em off.”
Judge Ransom gripped his saddle. No one there realized what this meant to him—financial ruin. The Lava Gang had made good their threat.
The sheriff had hoped that the wounded man they had found the night before would be able to identify one of the murderers. But this hope was dashed when he met Bill Anderson as they entered the town.
“That poor fellow,” Anderson told him, “got one of his bandages loose and bled to death. I never heard him move, but he was dead when I got to town.”
The sheriff, followed by Toothpick, hurried to the doctor’s house, where they were shown the dead man.
“Toothpick, yuh helped do him up; look them bandages over,” the sheriff said.