“If you knew me, pilgrim, you wouldn’t mention that at all,” said Bill; and anybody could see that he was growing mad about it. “I shall not call the name of Henderson once while I am there. If anybody says anything to me about you I shall say I don’t know you.”
After breakfast Bill shook Henderson by the hand and started and walked away. He took nothing with him except his brace of revolvers and an old dilapidated blanket, which he slung over his shoulder. He left his rifle and horse in charge of his men, who were to bring them to him at some future time, Henderson didn’t know when or where it was. Bill didn’t exchange any plans with Henderson, for he had made up his mind what he wanted to do and he didn’t care to have anyone know it. Henderson gazed at him in surprise as he walked away.
“There’s a man who is going into trouble,” said he. “I could have given him some things that I think would have helped him out.”
“Don’t you lose no sleep worryin’ about him,” said one of the men. “He knows what he is going to do. Now you can find your way back, can’t you? We have got to leave you here.”
Yes, Henderson could get along now all right, and he gladly parted with the men, after dividing his corn meal and bacon with them, for he was anxious to get away by himself and think the matter over. He hadn’t known what happiness was before in a long while.
“If one of the men from whom I have just parted,” said he, as soon as he was out of hearing, “had told me that he was the chief of a hundred men who would go their lengths for him, I should have believed him; but that is a queer thing for that neat-looking fellow to say. How easily that villain fell in with my plans! If I had been going there knowing what he does—— Whew! I believe I should have got some advice from somebody.”
Meanwhile Coyote Bill walked along toward Mr. Davenport’s ranch, keeping a lookout for horsemen who were on the watch for stray cattle, whom he intended to dodge, and revolving in his mind certain plans for stealing the bonds; for be it known that he put implicit faith in Henderson’s word. No man could come to him and talk as earnestly as he did when there was nothing behind it. He tramped all that day, found a camp at night in a belt of timber with which the country was thickly interspersed, laid down without a fire, and at ten o’clock reached his destination. He was really foot-sore and weary when he got there, for walking so far was something to which he was not accustomed, and was glad to see the man for whom he was looking sitting on the porch.
“Good-day to you, sir!” said Coyote Bill, lifting his hat. “Is this Mr. Faber’s ranch?”
“Come up and sit down,” replied Mr. Davenport. “You have travelled far and you look completely exhausted. Faber! I don’t know such a man as that. He can’t have a ranch anywhere about here.”
“Thank you, sir,” said Bill. “I believe I am tired, and if it will suit you will sit down for a while. May I make bold to ask for something to eat?”