So hot was the pace set by the guide that even those of the posse accustomed from childhood to the saddle were forced to exert themselves to keep up and the detectives were soon left straggling as best they could, barely managing to keep the others in sight.
"It looks as though you'd be out your hundred plunks," laughed Jones.
"It certainly does and I hope to goodness I am. You don't seem to grasp the fact that your 'Uncle Dudley' knew what he was doing when he made that proposition."
The questioning glances bestowed upon the detective by his comrades showed that they had not, indeed, suspected that there was a hidden meaning to the offer.
"If these Rubes do get there ahead of Jesse, they'll be obliged to fight or run. If they do the latter, I'll save my hundred; if they give battle, which from their state of mind I should think more likely, the whole thing'll be over before we arrive on the scene and there won't be any danger of our bodies offering a stopping place for any of the cut-throat's bullets."
The declaration was made with all the satisfaction of a man who had consummated a clever bargain and he looked from one to another of his fellows complacently.
None of them were loath to be saved from exposing themselves to the guns of Jesse and his pals and as they realised that the innocent proposition had obviated this danger, the spirits of the man-hunters rose rapidly and they laughed and joked as they rode along.
But in their glee, they forgot the old adage, "he who laughs last laughs best."