“You and your pards must be regular fiends!” murmured Jacobs.
“Rather a left-handed compliment, I call that,” said the scout. “Didn’t you know my pard, Nomad, was trailing you, Jacobs?”
“I should say not!”
“How did it happen that some one got the best of him in our room at the Phœnix hotel, bound and gagged him with towels, and left him a prisoner in a closet?”
“I didn’t know anything about that. Bascomb, before he rode out into the hills, was to have a couple of men call at your hotel and keep an eye on you or any of your pards who happened to be there. I suppose those men must have roughed things up for Nomad. But I didn’t hear about it.”
“Nomad said Bascomb called the men ‘light-fingered.’ Didn’t Bernritter want them to go through our baggage?”
“I don’t know. Bern didn’t say anything to me about it.”
“Did Bernritter tamper with my guns?” asked McGowan.
“Yes. He said that if you ever got a line on him about the first thing you’d do would be to shoot—and ask for an explanation afterward.”
“Well, I am rather swift when my mad is up.”