Winthrop smiled. If it were a disembodied spirit talking, it was no other than the spirit of Overland Red. The accent was unmistakable. The Easterner glanced round and observed a peculiar something behind the brush edging the rise beyond the water-hole.
"It's me," said Overland, still concealed. "Thought I quit you, eh? Are them fellas out of sight yet?"
"No. They're still in sight. They are too far to see anything, though."
"And you can see them all right, son? That don't figure out correct."
Winthrop laughed. "That's so. Where's the burro?"
"He's hid—right in plain sight up a little arroyo."
"Won't they find him, and confiscate him and the things?"
"Not on your life! 'T ain't exactly healthy, even for constables, to go round confiscatin' outfits they don't know who's connected with. They can't say for sure that burro and stuff is mine. They'll look it over and leave it right there."
"But why did you come all the way back here?" asked Winthrop.
"Seein' they's lots of time, I'll explain. If I had kep' on goin', they would 'a' trailed me, and mebby got a crack at me in them hills. They are two to one, and they could get me at night. Now they'll either give it up, or spot my back tracks and find me here. That's all."