Two men came out of the hut, climbed the highest ridge at hand, and scanned the horizon carefully, then went back to start a little fire and prepare breakfast.
“I can’t understand how you got away from the fort, Price,” said one.
“Easy enough, Ike,” returned the other. “Remember the crook-fingered ’breed, Pete, who got nabbed for the stage raid down toward Virginia City two years ago?”
“Sure.”
“Perhaps you may remember that I fixed it with the judge, and he got off light?”
“Um-h’m.”
“Well, Pete was at the fort caring for the horses of the officers. He knew me first glimpse, but he didn’t let on, and when he got a chance he slipped me out with a good mount, a sack of grub, and a belt full of guns.”
“Pete sort o’ squared his bill, eh?”
“He did, and if you ever see a chance to slip Pete a favor, Ike, on my account, I hope you’ll do it.”
“Bet yer life, I will, Price, but I never did like that Canadian polecat, though.”