“There! I intended to tell him something, but it’s too late now.”
“You might be able to catch him at the stable,” said the quick-witted Sandy, seizing Dick’s arm. “Come on!”
The three boys pushed their way through the crowd, but a jam in front of the door delayed them. Like themselves, everyone, so it seemed, wanted to get out. They were caught in a drifting, struggling current of over-curious half-breeds, were jolted back and forth and, when they finally emerged, panting and dishevelled, to the yard outside, they perceived to their chagrin that Rand had already mounted his horse and was speeding away.
“Just my luck!” Dick sputtered. “There he goes. I might have given him information that would have saved him a lot of time.”
“What information?” demanded a person almost at his elbow.
Neither Sandy nor Toma had spoken. Dick wheeled quickly and looked up into a pair of steel-gray eyes, at a coarse, brutal face. The man’s rough garb was that of a prospector or trapper. None of the boys had ever seen him before.
“What information?” he repeated insolently.
Dick met the other’s appraising gaze without flinching.
“I wasn’t speaking to you, sir.”
“That’s all right, I’m speaking to yuh. I asked yuh what I consider is a decent, friendly question. Yuh don’t need to try any o’ your high an’ haughty manner with me.”