One of the men stepped to his side and peered curiously through the window.
“Bill!” he whispered excitedly. “Look here. It’s a holdup!”
The other man looked over his shoulder. He swore softly.
“I’ll bet it’s The Coyote!” said the first man in an awed voice.
“Probably is,” said Rathburn sneeringly. “They say he was heading this way.”
“Good place to stay out of––if it’s him,” declared the second man.
Rathburn suddenly pulled back his left sleeve. “See that?” he said, pointing to his left forearm.
The two men stared at the bared forearm in the yellow light which shone through the dust-stained window. They saw a scar about three inches below the elbow.
“Looks like a bullet made that,” one of the men observed.