“Where they headin’ for?”
“Elk Valley. Those Faulkner boy say you ees ask las’ night ’bout the road to the Reservation.”
“This gits pretty close to the showdown with me,” Johnny growled. “If Roddy ever gits me I’m as good as dead. I’d just have to make a move to have him shoot me down. ‘Tryin’ to git away’ would be his answer. They’ll never take me. It’s a pretty mess they’ve cooked up, ain’t it?”
“Well, what you do now, Johnny?”
“I’m goin’ to do what I should ’a’ done two days ago—go to Jim Kelsey. If there is any law in this county, he’s it. Vin, Charlie Paul is campin’ at that spring beyond Stiles’s old place. He’s got my horse. Go git him for me, will you. Tell him to wait in back of the hotel. I’ll slip out that way now. No sense gittin’ you or Scanlon mixed up in this.”
“I go myself,” Vin answered. He stopped at the door and seemed to hesitate about saying what was on his mind. “Johnny,” he said haltingly, “you hear all thees bad talk about Madeiras, yet you ask for heem. What you theenk?”
“Say, Vin,” Johnny said warmly, “he’s my best friend. What he does is done on my say-so. I don’t know where he is or what he is doin’, but it’s right with me.”
Johnny could not have said anything which would have pleased the Basque more. The pride of race was strong in Vin. His people had been fighting from the day they landed for the respect of the native sons.
The boy waited until the Basque had gone before he moved. He knew that he was face to face with trouble. Jim Kelsey held the decision. If what Johnny had to tell him was convincing enough, the district attorney could not refuse to act.
Gale’s mysterious absence also was of alarming importance. Having brought Thunder Bird to face the coroner, it followed, as a matter of course, that Tobias would endeavor to learn the outcome of that visit.