The three men went out and mounted. The doctor kept sharp eyes on Phelps. He seemed perfectly sure of Bloom and gave him scant attention.
“How long will we be gone, Buffalo Bill?” asked the doctor.
“Two or three hours,” answered the scout; “I can’t say exactly.”
“I can’t go away from here for two or three hours,” expostulated Phelps.
“Tut!” returned the doctor, “you can stay away six, if necessary, in order to get to the bottom of these mysteries. It’s time, well spent, Hank. Prouther,” he added to the cowboy who held his horse while he mounted, “go in and sit with Jake till we come back. You won’t have to do anything but stay with him. He’s not very good company, Jake ain’t, but I’m hoping for the best. Go on, Prouther.”
Prouther looked toward Phelps to have the order confirmed. Phelps nodded, half sullenly. Meanwhile, the scout had been mounting Bear Paw.
“Which way, Buffalo Bill?” called the doctor.
“Up the hill,” answered the scout. “We’ll ride, first, for the forks of the trail, where it separates for the Circle-B and for Hackamore.”
Bloom and Phelps evidently did not care to ride beside the scout. They started on ahead, leaving the doctor to follow with Buffalo Bill.
“What do you expect to prove by this little junket, my friend?” asked the doctor, as they rode.