"Don' know. From up north, by their rig. I'm wonderin' who the fourth fella was—and where he is."
"Why, he's out there, stiff'nin' on the sand. They's been a fight. And, believe me, if the others was like him—she was a dandy!"
"I guess it's up to us to do somethin'," suggested the lounger.
"Not to-night, Bill. You don't ketch me ridin' into a flash in the dark before I got time to tell myself I'm a dam' fool. In the mornin', mebby—"
Their heads came up as they heard a horse pounding down the road. A lean pony, black with sweat, jumped to a trembling stop.
A young Mexican swung down and walked stiffly up to Dex.
"Where is Señor Jim?" he queried, breathing hard.
"Don' know, hombre. This his hoss?"
"Si! It is Dex."
'Well, the hoss came in, recent, draggin' the reins."