“If you wanted to get an early start in the morning, I can let my hostler take charge of this little matter for you—the return of the burros by freight, or whichever way the owner decides,” offered Mr. Walters.
After another short conference it was decided to act as the manager of the hotel had advised; then Mr. Gilroy sent a telegram to Trinidad to be delivered at the horse-ranch of the man who had rented him the animals.
Everything in connection with facilitating the departure of the scout-party for the Navajo Desert moved along without a hitch. Tally came in on the freight which was due just after midnight, and Mr. Gilroy met him to assist in getting the horses over to the stables.
“Boss, dey so fresh dey mek plenty kick on the car from Laguna. Mebbe I not glad it no so far to Gallop, or dey kick off side of train,” explained Tally.
“They will have a jaunt to-morrow, my boy, that’ll take out all that pep!” laughed Mr. Gilroy. Then he outlined the plan as Mr. Walters had proposed it, and which every one, but Tally, heartily approved of.
“I go ’long all ’lone wid dem fresh horses?” inquired Tally, dubiously.
“You won’t have the three burros to bother with, and the horses will have the outfit to carry,” explained Mr. Gilroy.
“Mebbe we ’rive at the Mission an’ mebbe we don’. Tally’s money goes on the gamble dat we never see Mission, so!”
“What then—what would you say?” demanded Mr. Gilroy.
“Boss, you not live wid dem hosses lek me, and now I tell you troof when I say dey run away on me sure es shootin’. One guide no good holdin’ in bunch ’a ’leben galavantin’ hosses. No!”