“Then I’d better ride down to Pierrepont, hadn’t I?”
“I’m afraid that’s the best that I can suggest, sir.”
“You people certainly seem to be playing in hard luck, Mr. Carhart.” As the wizened one ventured this observation he crossed his legs and thrust his hands into his pockets. The action caused his coat to fall back, and disclosed a small gold pendant hanging from his watch guard. Young Van observed it, and glanced at Carhart, but he could not tell whether the chief had taken it in.
“It’s worse than hard luck,” Carhart replied; “it begins to look like defeat. We have been dependent on the Sherman people for material, food, water,—everything. Now Bourke has shut us off.”
“But you seem to have plenty of material here, Mr. Carhart.”
“Rails—yes. But it takes more than rails.”
“And you surely have a large enough force.”
“Yes, but moving several hundred men back a hundred and forty miles, fighting it out with Bourke, clearing the track, and getting trains through from Sherman, will take time. Long before we can make any headway, the H. D. & W. will have beaten us into Red Hills.”
“Ah—I see,” nodded the wizened one. “You’re going back after Bourke.”