He turned quickly upon Toma.
“How did it happen,” he asked, “that you came on alone? Where are Dick and Sandy?”
“Burnnel and Emery get them jus’ like they get you. Almost get me, too, but I jump away from them. I come on here because I think mebbe you go back an’ help.”
“You did well, Toma. Where did this happen?”
“Near the place where keep ’em house that free trader.”
“Meade?”
The Indian nodded.
“That isn’t far from here,” said Rand. “We’ll start at once.”
In admiration, Toma drew in his breath. Well he knew the agony the policeman must endure from his limbs, still swollen, as the result of that terrible ordeal. Notwithstanding this, he proposed to start out as if nothing had happened. It was nearly twenty miles back along the trail to Meade’s Ferry. Twenty miles with legs like that! Twenty miles through the stifling heat of that summer’s day—and over a rough trail!
“You think you do that?” he asked, his mouth agape.