"One name onlee I know, mees," he said, with a snarl which somehow reminded Peggy of the coyotes of the arroyo.
"And his name was?"
"Red Beel Soomers!"
"'Red Bill Summers!" they all echoed, except Miss Prescott and old
Mr. Peter Bell, the latter of whom had fallen into a reverie.
As if they had been emblazoned in electric lights, the words of
Professor Wandering William flashed across Peggy's brain.
"The most desperate ruffian on the Nevada desert."
And at the same time, with one of those quick, flashes of intuition which growing girls share with grown women, Peggy sensed a vague connection between that sinister conversation she had overheard on her wakeful night at the National House and the dreaded Red Bill.
CHAPTER XI
THE HORSE HUNTERS
Bright and early the next day the aeroplane whizzed back to the arroyo, carrying a fresh supply of food and water, for Mr. Bell had decided to investigate his "prospect" thoroughly while he had an opportunity. To his mind, he had declared, the lead, or pay streak, ran back far into the base of the barren hills, and might yield almost untold of riches if worked properly. Among the supplies carried by the aeroplane, therefore, was a stock of dynamite from the red painted box.