It was not till the next day, at noon, that the three desert hawks left the hotel, long after the departure of the Bell party. They rode slowly in the opposite direction to that in which the other party had gone, till they had gotten out of sight of the little town. Then, taking advantage of every dip and rise in the surface of the plain, they retraced their steps and soon were riding on the track of the Bell outfit.
"Whar wa'ar you all ther forenoon?" asked the black-mustached man of Red Bill as they rode along.
"I was doing a bit of profitable business," was the rejoinder.
"Selling something?"
"No finding something out. Boys, Jim Bell's in our power."
"In our power," laughed the other, a laugh in which Bellew chimed in. "I reckon you don't know him yet."
"Don't eh?" snarled Red Bill, stung into acrimonious retort. "I reckon your brain works just a bit too quick, Buck."
"Waal, ef you know so much, let's hear it?"
The red-sashed, silver-spurred Buck Bellew reined in closer to his companions, rowelling his little active "paint" horse as he did so, till it jumped and curvetted.
"It's just this," said Red Bill Summers, unconsciously lowering his tone although there was no one about to hear but his companions, a few, blasted-looking yuccas and, far overhead, a wheeling buzzard.