The scout allowed the baron to spell out this warlike communication.
“We have the robbers scared,” remarked the scout. “Whenever a criminal tries to frighten an officer off his trail with such a letter, he proves that he’s losing his nerve. What time did you and McGowan and the other two reach Phœnix, baron?”
“Aboudt haluf-bast dree.”
“Did you stop anywhere on the way to the sheriff’s office?”
“Ve shtopped at der bost-office. Pernridder vent in und asked for der Dree-bly mail.” The baron, putting two and two together, in his logy German way, began to grow excited. “Py shiminy! Dot sgoundrel, Pernridder, must haf mailed dot ledder ven he——”
“Not so fast, baron,” warned the scout. “You’re getting ahead of developments. This is only a small piece of circumstantial evidence, and not half so convincing as finding a bar of stolen bullion in a man’s saddle-bags.”
The baron grew quiet and pensive. After supper he and the scout mounted their horses and, with several days’ rations at their saddle-cantles, rode out through the “Five Points,” then along Grand Avenue, and so into the Black Cañon trail on their way to the Three-ply.
They had not been gone half an hour when Nick Nomad came charging into the hotel with important news. His news was of vital import, and his disappointment was great when he discovered that the scout and the baron had left.
Bernritter and Jacobs, intent on making a big “clean-up” and a safe getaway, were drawing upon all their resources to foil Buffalo Bill and his pards.