Catching up the rustler’s patient horse, the Sergeant picked up the rifle and, after pumping out the shells, thrust it into its scabbard slung under the legadeiro of the saddle; then, knotting the lines around the horn, he proceeded to swiftly fashion a hackamore with his lariat.
“Reckon yu’ll have to ride as yu’ are, Shorty,” he said. “I’m a-goin’ to trail yu’ alongside. What’s up?” he added, as the other, with manacled hands on the saddle-horn, in the act of mounting, was staring at the buckskin with interest.
“Some hawss, that, yu’re ridin’, Sargint,” he remarked, with a meaning, bitter smile.
“Some,” assented Ellis dryly. “Well, yu’ oughta know—bein’ as ’twas yu’ topped him off. Umbagi!—let’s trek. Don’t forget that hide, Barney!” he shouted. “Hang onto that brand, too—mind Shorty don’t swop it on yu’,” he added with grim pleasantry.
The rancher, busily rolling up the bloody mass, with the rustler’s knife and cleaver inside, responded with one of his customary barking laughs and, lashing it on behind his saddle, mounted; and with him bringing up the rear, the little cavalcade turned homewards.
In due time they arrived at the detachment, and the Sergeant, after carefully searching and locking up his prisoner, withdrew outside the building to discuss matters with Gallagher.
“Guess there ain’t no Bull-Durham about th’ tip old Bob Tucker’s got this trip,” he said with conviction. “Wonder who ’twas put that old stiff wise?”
He was more excited than was his wont, and his brow was contracted with impatient thought.
“Reckon he’s tellin’ th’ straight tale?” Gallagher ventured dubiously, with a back-flung jerk of his head to the building.
“Shore,” answered the policeman. “’Twas just a bit o’ lucky gammon I threw into him—I’d no idea he’d fall for it like he did. Yu’re a witness of his admissions of being an accomplice o’ these fellers. As a matter o’ fact,” he continued, with a sly grin, “I haven’t seen either o’ them for well-nigh a month now. ’Twas Little Benny Parker wised me up ’bout what Shorty figured he was goin’ to do for me.... He was down at th’ post-office one mail day—quite a while ago, this is—an’ these fellers was all outside together a-talkin’—Jules le Frambois along. Benny’s only a little nipper, an’ bein’ on th’ other side o’ his horse, cinchin’ up, I guess they didn’t notice him. Some cute kid, Benny!”