Benner’s horse was put under saddle in record time, and he and the scout started side by side along the trail that led to the H-P ranch.
“I’m going over to call on Phelps,” announced the scout.
Benner started in his saddle.
“Alone?” he inquired.
“Yes. Business calls me.”
“It’s dangerous, considering the temper Phelps is in about Jake. If Jake happens to have crossed the divide, I would be willing to gamble you have trouble getting clear of his place with your scalp.”
“Do you really think so?” asked the scout, with a keen glance at his companion. “Didn’t I call on Phelps once before, when you and he were in the ranch house? And didn’t I get away with ground to spare?”
A flush stole over Benner’s bronzed face. The scout had referred to an incident during the time when Phelps and Benner were at war with Perry and Dunbar. On that occasion, Buffalo Bill had rescued Perry from Phelps’ ranch house, and had left Benner and Phelps handcuffed back to back.
“I renig,” said Benner, with a short laugh. “You’re able to take care of yourself in any and all circumstances, Buffalo Bill. I reckon you can call on Phelps and get away again. But what’s the use?”
“We’re close to the end of this trouble trail,” proceeded the scout earnestly. “A little quick work this morning will settle everything. Perry, Mr. and Mrs. Dunbar, Sim Pierce, old Nomad and Little Cayuse are going to start on horseback inside of two hours for the place where the trail forks to go to Hackamore and to your place. They will wait for Phelps and me at the forks. You, Benner, are to ride with the party from the Star-A.”