“How long will it take to find him? Where does he hang out?”
“Over by the catacombs. I reckon if I take Ki Yi with me, we can have him back here before sundown.”
“Then get a move on. We’ll wait right where we are,” exclaimed the owner of the Double Cross. “What with stealing my cattle and then causing me to get into that death hole, it seems as though I couldn’t wait much longer to get a shot at that raider.”
No urging, however, did the two cowboys need to make them start on their quest for the old guide, and quickly taking the freshest ponies in the lot, they were soon galloping over the plains.
If ill luck had attended the beginning of the pursuit of the Midnight Raider, it evidently repented of such actions, for, before the cowboys had traversed more than half the distance to the catacombs, they came upon the object of their ride, squatting beside a fire, frying some bacon on an old piece of tin.
At the sound of hoofbeats, the old guide had risen cautiously from his place and scanned the horsemen, though so craftily had he done the trick that neither of the cowpunchers were aware of it. Deciding, however, that they would not prove hostile, he had resumed his cooking and was still engaged at it when the horsemen rode up to him, after discovering the faint wraith of smoke caused by his fire.
“Man, dear, but the sight of you does my eyes good!” exclaimed Deadshot, slipping from his saddle and extending his hand, which the old man accepted rather suspiciously.
“What brings you over this way?” he asked, without expressing either pleasure or surprise at beholding the man to who he owed his life.
“Looking for you.”
“Huh?” And the tone in which he spoke showed that the information was not welcome. “Nig no done nothing. Besides, you told me you was a cowman.”