"He must be told," said The Kid at length. "Let's see—he'll want to get to the end of the line, anyway, and that's over a hundred miles from here. I say, Ike, you'd better tell him, I guess."
"Well," said Ike slowly, "that there's a purty particular bit of diplomatics, and I aint used to it. I say," with a sudden inspiration, "you tell him."
"Couldn't do it, Ike. How would it do to get Father Mike or Sinclair?"
"Yes," said Ike meditatively, "they'd do all right if we weren't here, but I guess we belong to him 'most more than they do."
"That's so, Ike," said The Kid quickly. "That's so; it's one of us."
"Yes, it's one of us," said Ike, "and if I could do it well, boss, you wouldn't see no buck."
"All right, Ike," said The Kid, drawing a long breath. "I'll do it."
"I'll remember it, boss," said Ike. "Guess there aint much time to lose. How is he agoin' to git there?"
"Take the Swallow, Ike," said The Kid. "She's good for a hundred miles."
"Mr. McIntyre's team will be ready to go from his place," said the stranger, who had come near.