“That’s how I feel, sir.”
“Feel? We’ve just got to do it—or clear out of the country. Man, I’d give a thousand dollars to know how they got possession of our signals. Those shots, that bluffed us, were fired by some of the gang. How did they learn it? It’s been done by spying, but—say, get on back to camp, and prepare the report of last night. Hold it up for me, and I’ll enclose a private letter to Mr. Jason. I’ll be along later.”
McBain nodded.
“You fix it, sir, so we don’t get transferred back. We need another chance badly. Maybe they won’t bluff us next time.”
He swung himself into the saddle and rode away, while Fyles, linking his arm through the faithful Peter’s reins, strolled leisurely on down the track toward the group which included Kate Seton.
As he drew near they ceased talking, and watched his approach. Their attitude was such that Fyles could not refrain from a half-bitter, half-laughing comment as he came up.
“It doesn’t take much guessing to locate the subject of your talk, Miss Kate,” he cried.
Kate’s dark eyes had no smile in them as she replied to his challenge.
“How’s that?” she inquired, while Bill and Helen watched his face.
Fyles shrugged.