Out of the dark came a figure on horseback—as unexpectedly as Scott himself had done a few moments ago. Scott tightened his grasp on his revolver.
“If he’s a friend of yours, señor, I’m afraid you’ll have to go by without recognizing him,” he said.
“He is not,” replied Pachuca. “My friends are better horsemen than that.”
“It’s Tom,” laughed Scott, suddenly. “He’s come after me. Slow down, señor, if you please.”
Johnson, riding rapidly, swerved suddenly to one side as the big machine without lights came toward him.
“What the——” he began.
“Yes, it’s us,” said Scott, drily. “We’ve made a haul and we’re bringing it in. Suppose you wait for that horse of mine, will you, Tom, and see that he gets home all right? Thanks to this gentleman and his friends we’ve only got three head of cattle left, so we’d best be careful of them.”
“You bet,” responded Johnson, heartily. “How’d you do it, old man?” he asked.
“I didn’t, the lady in the case did it,” responded Scott. “She’ll tell you about it later. Whoop her up, will you, señor? It’s getting chilly around here.”