"In bunches! They're comin' in droves!"
He put down the binocular, took the six-gun from its holster, twirled the cylinder briskly and caressed the trigger with an eager finger. His mouth had become a tight, straight line and his brows were gathered slightly, as in perplexity. He breathed audibly as he watched those indications of human life on the valley. He knew then the greatest torment of suspense....
Ten minutes later, when the near dot had become easily discernible to the naked eye, when the figure of horse and rider was in sharp detail through the glass, the ominous quality about the man gave way to frank mystification. He flung one leg over the corner of the ore car, and his face ceased to reflect his great determination, became puzzled, half alarmed.
"That's Bruce's stallion, if I ever seen him!" he thought, "An' he's been run to th' last breath."
The horse went out of sight, entered the timber below Benny and the clicking of stones, the sounds of shod hoofs floundering over bare rocks gave evidence that he would be at the mine level in another five minutes. The man hitched his gun belt about, took one more anxious, puzzled look down into the valley where other figures moved, and walked down the trail toward the cabin slowly, watching through the pines for sight of the climbing animal.
A man came first, bent over that he might climb faster up the steep trail. He was leading a horse that was drenched from ear to ankle, lathered about neck and shoulder and flank, who breathed in short, low sobs, and stepped with the uneven awkwardness of utter fatigue. Benny stopped as he recognized Bayard and Abe and his right hand which had rested lightly on the gun butt at his hip dropped to his thigh. He stood still, waiting for them to come nearer, wondering anxiously what this might mean, for he knew that the owner of the sorrel stallion would never have ridden him to that condition without cause.
Bayard looked up, saw the man waiting for him and halted between strides, the one foot far advanced before the other. His face was white and he stared hard at the miner, studying him closely, dreading to ask the question that was at his lips. But after that momentary pause he blurted out,
"Is everything all right, Benny?"
And Lynch, shaken by Bruce's appearance, the manner of his arrival, countered:
"What's wrong? What is it?"—walking swiftly down the trail toward the newcomer.