“Seven o'clock,” answered Hunk Smith, sulkily. “Say, if you young fellows want to catch—”
“And Patten telegraphed at eight,” cried Crosby. “That's it. He reached Kiowa after the stage had gone. Sergeant Clancey!” he called.
The Sergeant pushed out from the mass of wondering troopers.
“When did the paymaster say he was leaving Kiowa?”
“Leaving at once, the telegram said,” answered Clancey.
“'Meet me with escort before I reach the buttes.' That's the message I was told to give the lieutenant.”
Hunk Smith leaned from the box-seat. “Mebbe Pop's driving him over himself in the buckboard,” he volunteered. “Pop often takes 'em over that way if they miss the stage.”
“That's how it is, of course,” cried Crosby. “He's on his way now in the buckboard.”
Hunk Smith surveyed the troopers dismally and shook his head. “If he runs up against the Red Rider, it's 'good-by' your pay, boys,” he cried.
“Fall in there!” shouted Crosby. “Corporal Tynan, fall out with two men and escort these ladies to the fort.” He touched his hat to Miss Post, and, with Curtis at his side, sprang into the trail. “Gallop! March!” he commanded.