Wild Bill slipped carefully from the edge of the roof, hung a moment, and then loosened his fingers. His foot struck on a stone, and he fell with quite a scramble. There was a stir around the corner, and a dark form showed itself.
Hawkins pressed Wild Bill down on the ground with a quick hand.
“What ther nation is goin’ on, Ace?” called a voice.
“Nawthin’,” answered Hawkins. “I jest fell asleep standin’ up, an’ tumbled over.”
“Waal, keep yer eyes open. Splinters says we’re goin’ ter ride ter the Star-A purty soon.”
The form disappeared, and Ace Hawkins drew a long breath of relief.
“Now fer down hill,” he murmured, “an’ the quicker we skin out, the better.”
With Hawkins leading, the two moved noiselessly down the slope, in the direction of the river and the little grove of trees.
“Hyer we aire, all serene,” said Hawkins, “an’ yore hoss is right ferninst ye, Wild Bill.”
“I can see him,” answered the Laramie man. “I’ll not be bagged again, Hawkins.”