"He's at Cricklewood's," said Murray. "If you'd waited a little you would have met him on the trail."
"I didn't, anyway," was Baxter's indifferent reply; "I only met a stranger."
Corporal Slaney had no reason to suspect that the brief conversation which had followed Baxter's arrival had been carefully prearranged for his benefit.
"Where did you meet that stranger?" he asked.
"About two miles east of the bluff."
"Did you speak to him?"
Baxter smiled.
"I didn't; he didn't give me a chance. He was going south as fast as his horse could lay hoofs to the ground."
"What was he like? Did you see him clearly?"
"Well," drawled Baxter, "it's only a half-moon, and the man wasn't very close, but I think he'd a black plug hat. As most of us wear gray ones, that kind of struck me. I've a notion that his overall jacket was brown."