"I'm no murderer," he muttered, glowering at his captor.
"Wait until I get your latest partner, Kluger," said the sergeant.
Seymour seemed on the verge of enlightening Moira when she raised a hand of caution. "Listen," she whispered.
They heard hoof beats hammering into camp. Some one on horseback was coming at speed. The sergeant crossed to the tent front and peered out between the flaps.
"Guess we won't have to go for Kluger, after all," he said, still peering.
Karmack muttered an oath, his petulance directed against old lady Luck, who gets the credit for the best and blame for the worst that happens to illogical humans.
"Bonnie—Bonnemort! Where are you?" The deep-throated call came from outside.
"Where d'you suppose?" Seymour called back in a voice that he hoped would pass for the pretended half-breed's.
He turned to Moira, quietly directing her to crouch behind the treasure chest and keep her gun on the ex-factor.
"No more fighting with fists,—please!" she begged.