"I should say so."
"I wish we had them."
"Couldn't we take them?" suggested Hadley, his face brightening at the thought of this easy mode of acquiring what they so much needed.
"Are you mad, Tom Hadley?" returned Bill Mosely, shrugging his shoulders. "Are you anxious to die?"
"I should say—not."
"Then you'd better not think of carrying off them horses. Why, we'd have the whole pack of miners after us, and we'd die in our boots before twenty-four hours had passed."
On the whole, this prospect did not appear to be of an encouraging character, and Tom Hadley quietly dropped the plan.
"Perhaps we can buy them," suggested Mosely by way of amendment. "I've got tired of tramping over these hills on foot. After we've got some supper we'll inquire who they belong to."
Up to this point neither Mosely nor his companion suspected that the mustangs which they desired to purchase had once been in their possession. That discovery was to come later.
Before reaching the Golden Gulch Hotel they encountered the landlord, already introduced as Jim Brown.