"You can't throw no bluff this morning," said Tenlow, irritated by the youth's persistence. "I guess you know what I mean."
"You got the horse, but I don't leave here without him," said Collie stubbornly. And there was an underlying assurance about Collie's attitude that perplexed the deputy, who was satisfied that the led horse was for Overland Red's use.
Saunders, hiding back in the brush, cursed Tenlow's stupidity. To have let Collie go on and have followed him under cover would have been the only sensible plan. Rapidly approximating the outcome of this muddle, Saunders untied his pony and rode back toward the ranch, taking an unused and densely covered bridle-trail.
From up in the cañon came the thunder of the racing-car. Far above them Tenlow and Collie could see it creeping round a turn in the road. It disappeared in a dip, to reappear almost instantly, gliding swiftly down the long slant toward the valley. The staccato drumming of the exhaust echoed along the hillside. Overland's silk hat shone bravely in the sun. Beside the outlaw was the figure of a woman. Tenlow foresaw complications and muttered profanely.
Down the next ditch rolled the car, rocking to the unevenness of the mountain road. Overland opened the throttle, the machine shot forward, and in a few seconds drew up abreast of the deputy.
"Thank you so much, Mr. Summers," said Louise, stepping from the car. "How are you, Mr. Tenlow."
"How'do, Miss Lacharme."
"Good-bye, Mr. Summers. I enjoyed the ride very much."
"Just a minute—" began the deputy.
"Where's my pony, Collie? He didn't get away, did he?"