The boy and Indian watched him narrowly, but they saw no quivering of the lips as he turned to the former—
“Well, what of it?” asked Deadly Dan. “Yes, boy, what do I care for the rigmarole on this card? You are the self-instituted Judge Lynch, I suppose.”
“Judge Lynch, at your service,” said the boy, doffing his hat with mock politeness. “And I have the honour of informing you, Rosebud Dan, that my court is about to hold a night session.”
Before the Sport could reply, the horses started forward, and a moment after the party went through the little gulch.
Red Crest, the Sioux, with his hand at Deadly Dan’s bridle, trotted tirelessly at the head of his steed.
CHAPTER II.
Having made up his mind, Old Jack went to each horse and patted his strong neck affectionately. They had been fast friends as beast and master, and there was a warm corner in the old man’s heart for each.
He had just unharnessed them from the stage in which he had carried Deadly Dan to Custer City.