“Who was that?” asked Phil.
“Don’t know! Looked like Smiler, the dummy kid. Queer little devil!”
Phil jumped up.
“Maybe he’s got some information for me. Wait here! I’ll be back directly.”
Phil went outside slowly and round the corner of the building to the back-yard. Sure enough, as soon as no one was in sight, Smiler darted up to him. He was all excitement and kept pointing to a clump of trees down a side road.
“Did you find the man with the lame horse?” Phil asked.
Smiler nodded and grinned with pleasure, catching Phil by the coat and leading the way cautiously to where stood the brown mare with the white patch over her eye. She was tethered to a tree, well hidden from view of the road.
Phil examined her legs and saw at a glance that she favoured her left fore foot. A look showed him that some gravel had worked up into an old sore.
Phil pulled the strings of a bag that hung from the saddle. The first things he came across were his own spurs. He took possession of them.
Meanwhile, Smiler was watching with deep interest.