“I know it. And to think that we should find it before they were fairly out of sight of the building. Who—pee! My luck never went back on me yet.”
Tom went back to his work, and when I had the bacon fairly under way and the corn bread done, I invited him to come out and eat breakfast, if his excitement would allow him to eat any. He had the things mostly picked up. Two of the beds hadn’t been touched, and we would leave them for the cowboys who wouldn’t have anything else to do. He came, and the way the breakfast disappeared was a caution. He ate more than I could have eaten to save my life, and I came to the conclusion that the excitement was not all on his side. In half an hour more we were on our homeward journey, and during the whole of that ride there was nothing happened that was worthy of narration. We performed the ride almost entirely by daylight. When we slept it was in a grove of post-oaks, and any one who had come upon our camp would not have found the pocket-book. I took particular pains to hide it before we turned in, and when morning came it was always there. It rained for two days during our journey, but we didn’t mind that, and it was not long before we began to strike the advance guards of our cattle. No fight had occurred between the farmers and our outfit, because the former were men and knew just what they would do under the same circumstances. They and the Rangers camped on the other side of Trinity to see that we did not drive our cattle over, and when it rained the Rangers knew that their work was done and started at once for home, while the farmers remained a few days longer to guard their crops. Almost the first man we saw was Clifford Henderson, who was out trying to sell his stock to some cattlemen, but the cattlemen did not like the way he had come in charge of it, and would not consent to buy. When he saw us approaching he rode to meet us, accompanied by three or four of the men whom he had been trying to induce to buy his cattle.
“I am glad I don’t feel the way I did when I last saw this stock,” said Tom. “I tell you I was glum then, and didn’t know whether my luck was going to stand me in hand or not. There comes Henderson, but he has got some of our men with him, so that we need not be afraid. It beats me how he can associate with fellows like Coyote Bill, and then hold up his head when he gets among honest men.”
“He knows that we won’t tell of him until the proper time comes,” said I. “I’ll bet you that by the time this business is settled you can’t put your hands on him.”
“Where will he go?”
“He’ll put out. Just as soon as he finds the will in our hands he will skip. You see if he don’t.”
But at this moment Henderson came along as though he had a perfect right to be there. He was talking, and laying down some law to the men.
“I tell you that pocket-book was the only one Mr. Davenport had,” said he. “When he was taken with that fit and fell from his horse, he placed his hands upon it to be sure that it was safe. Here are the boys; you can ask them. Did you find it?”
“Find what?” I asked; for I knew that Tom would expect me to do all the talking.
“Find the pocket-book,” continued Henderson. “These men insist that there is another one somewhere, and that I haven’t got any right to the cattle. Now I want to know if you found it.”