“What are you going to do with us?” Sandy asked, gritting his teeth against the pain of the ropes.
“Leave you here until we get back. Don’t worry. You’ll be all right. You’re too valuable to us alive—for now, anyway.”
Sandy let the last remark pass. “How do you know where to find Joe?”
“Curious, aren’t you?” The Indian leaned down and picked up Sandy’s rifle. “To tell you the truth,” he said, throwing open the bolt, “I don’t know.” He slammed the bolt shut and moved off. “But if we don’t find him today, we’ll talk to him tomorrow. Don’t worry. We’ll get together sooner or later.” He made an abrupt motion with his head and the other two Indians disappeared silently down the trail.
“The quicker we see Joe,” he said, “the quicker you two get out of here. So wish us luck.” He turned and followed his companions. Sandy and Mike could hear the subdued tones of whispered conversation, then silence.
By working himself around on one shoulder, Sandy managed to twist himself into a position where he could see Mike. “You okay?” he called softly.
Mike grunted sourly. “I’d feel a lot better if I could figure this thing out.”
“Joe sure seems to have gotten himself into a mess of trouble,” Sandy said.
“What about us, for Pete’s sake! We’re not doing too badly.”
Despite their situation, Sandy grinned. “You’re right,” he admitted. “Those boys don’t fool around, do they?”