Old Aaron had no intention of going to the Diamond-Bar when he drove away from Brackett’s stable. If the Basque had followed him for a block of two he would have known as much because Gallup turned his team from the main road and pulled up before his own house.
Johnny was standing in front of the hotel at the time and he promptly surmised the reason for Aaron’s use of his team. The boy had about given up any hope of finding Madeiras. The appearance of Gallup made him decide to act alone.
“Sure as you’re born,” he said to himself, “that old crook is goin’ to take Thunder Bird out in the brush and pump lead into him. I bet I’ll have somethin’ to say about that.”
When Johnny crept around to the front of the house he saw that he was not mistaken. The old chief, bound and gagged, sat disconsolately in the rig. Aaron had gone back upstairs. The boy could hear him closing a door.
“Here’s where I take it on the run,” Johnny told himself. A minute later he was in the buckboard beside the Indian. Grabbing the reins and giving the horses the gad took only a second.
When Gallup came out the team was gone. He cursed and ranted, but Johnny and Thunder Bird were beyond the sound of his rage.
A mile out of town the boy brought the team to a halt. Thunder Bird’s eyes expressed no surprise. When Johnny had untied him and removed the gag from his mouth the chief made no attempt to speak.
“Men come soon, chief,” Johnny said, thoroughly provoked at the other’s reticence. “You make talk pretty quick.”
Thunder Bird shook his head slowly. “No talk, me,” he mumbled.
“No?” Johnny exclaimed hotly. “Mebbe so you change um mind. All the same I not come, Gallup kill you.”