The two traveled far from any road, and so slow was their progress that night found them still some miles from town.
Low hills came close to the northern limits of Standing Rock. The Indian knew a spot among them where he decided to camp. It was a little after nine o’clock before they reached it.
“Leave our stuff here, Charlie,” Johnny advised. “We eat, then we go see Gallup.”
The Indian answered with a shrug of his shoulders. He favored more direct action than this business of playing ghost. His way, under the circumstances, would have been to pot Aaron as he slept.
Johnny thumbled his gun just as they were ready to leave. Charlie smiled at this. Maybe the night held something of interest, after all.
“Ghost no have gun,” he laughed mockingly.
“No,” Johnny chuckled. “All the same I take him. You watch sharp till we cross railroad.”
He knew that once across the tracks they would be in little danger of being seen. Gallup’s house was one of the few on that side of the Espee main line.
When they had left the railroad a hundred yards behind they dismounted and began walking through the sage toward Aaron’s place. The three or four cabins they had to pass to get there were in darkness. A light burned in an upper window of Gallup’s house.
“Tobias and him countin’ up the day’s profits, no doubt,” Johnny thought. The Indian heard the boy muttering. “’Bout time I begun doin’ a little countin’ up myself,” Johnny went on. Aloud, then, to Charlie he said: