He pointed to the girl filling again the water bottles.
“She is mine, señor. We go to our own homes.”
“Hum! you should be enlisted in the fights and become capitan, but these would drop by the trail if you left them. Well, another time perhaps, señor! For the water many thanks. Adios!” and with wave of the hand they clattered down the arroya.
“Queer,” muttered Rhodes, “did you catch that second chap signal to the gun man in the cactus? He craw-fished back over the mesa and faded away.”
“They didn’t come for water alone––some scouten’ party trailin’ every sign found,” decided Pike. “I’ll bet they had us circled before the two showed themselves. Wonder who they are after?”
“Anyway they didn’t think us worth while gathering in, which is a comfort. That second fellow looks like someone I’ve crossed trails with, but I can’t place him.”
“They’ll place you all right, all right!” prophesied Pike darkly, “you and your interesting family won’t need a brand.”
Rhodes stared at him a moment and then grinned.
“Right you are, Cap. Wouldn’t it be pie for the gossips to slice up for home consumption?”
He kept on grinning as he looked at the poor bit of human flotsam whom he had dubbed “the owl” because of her silence and her eyes. She aroused Miguel without words, watching him keenly for faintest sign of recovery. The food and sleep had refreshed him in body, but the mind was far away. To the girl he gave no notice, and after a long bewildered stare at Rhodes he smiled in a deprecating way.