Jim Betts came up rapidly, his small head outthrust, his spinach whiskers floating in the breeze.
“Howdy!” he called, yet he did not speak loud. “You out after the same man we air?”
“If you are after Tim Benson, we are,” the scout told him.
Greetings followed.
“We ain’t after him,” said Betts; “we’re after Gorilla Jake, fer knifin’ the mine superintendent at Sody Springs. Thar’s a big reward out fer him, dead er alive; and wherever a reward floats its invertation thar me and Bill is mighty cert’in to be found. We been trailin’ him fer better’n a week. He’s been p’intin’ his nose toward Blossom Range; but we rounded him up, arter a fashion, in these hills, this mornin’, an’ air now lookin’ fer him.”
“Did he wear big boots?” asked the man from Laramie.
“Yoost so peeg as vot a grizzly bear vears?” added the German.
“Waal, he does. He’s a sort o’ grizzly, too; er, ruther, human ape. If ye ever set eyes on him ye’ll never fergit him.”
Jim Betts took from his pocket a soiled reward advertisement, which gave a very accurate description of Gorilla Jake; then the scout recalled who the man was.