“Is it too late now?” asked the farmer, eagerly. “We can follow them, and overtake them yet, if you say so.”
“And be shot for our pains. No, thank you. They are all on the alert, and all have their six-shooters in readiness. No, we must postpone our plan. There's one of the fellows that I mean to be revenged upon yet—the one that ferreted out our secret plan. I must bide my time, but I shall keep track of him.”
Soon the Colonel, well-mounted, was on his way back to the rude inn where he had slept the night before.
Dismounting he entered without ceremony, and his eyes fell upon the landlord's wife, engaged in some household employment.
“Where's Brown?” he asked, abruptly.
“Somewheres round,” was the reply.
“How long has he been home?”
“A matter of two hours. He came home awfully riled, but he wouldn't tell me what it was about. What's happened?”
“We've met with a disappointment—that's what's the matter.”
“Did the passengers get the better of you?” asked the woman, for she was in her husband's guilty secrets, and knew quite well what manner of man she had married.