“Thar was a feller in thar thet had his gun out and was gittin’ ready to let you have it,” explained Pete. “I reckoned thet I didn’t want to kill the critter. Somehow I don’t like to let go at a feller when he ain’t lookin’. It ain’t good sport; so I jest shot out the light, knowin’ thet you’d be out of range instanter if things went off thar, which they did.”
“Thet’s what I calls a low-down trick, Pete. No gent would butt in when another gent is holdin’ a private conversation, but I forgive ye. Lead me to our bunch. Be they all heah?”
Pete said they were, and conducted Sam to them. Tom, Hippy and Idaho eagerly plied the old guide with questions, all talking at the same time. They conversed in low tones, for no one knew at what moment they might be overheard by mountain prowlers, for none had great faith in the flight of the men that Sam Conifer had held up. They were expected to return seeking for revenge.
Sam was troubled, though the Overlanders were happy in the thought that Stacy had escaped. They reasoned that by this time he must be well on his way to the Circle O ranch. Sam, on the other hand, was worried about Jim. He believed that Jim must be somewhere about, and, after a few moments’ further conversation with his companions, started for a prowl about. In the meantime Two-gun and Idaho kept watch to guard against surprises.
The old guide’s search lasted for more than an hour. Upon his return he announced that he couldn’t find the slightest trace of Jim, and that he could do nothing more until daylight. The night passed without the party being disturbed, and with daylight all hands were out before breakfast continuing the search.
The cabin was the first object of their inquiry. After searching it and finding nothing of interest, except the message that Hippy had sent by one of the pigeons, they proceeded to the lean-to. The first object to interest them there was Stacy Brown’s hat.
“I reckon the fat boy went away in a hurry,” suggested Pete.
“An’ somebody cut the ropes thet held him,” added Idaho.
“He cut ’em hisself with the axe,” averred Sam, whose eyes had taken in every detail in one sweeping glance. “I knowed the kid would fool ’em if he got half a chance. But whar’s Jim? If they’ve done fer him I’ll foller thet bunch till I gits every one of ’em, if it takes me all the rest of my life. But Jim ain’t daid. I’ll tell ye, Cap’n Gray, and all the rest of ye, I love thet pard o’ mine like I never didn’t love no one else.”
“Then why do you fight each other all the time?” questioned Hippy laughingly.