This statement that the old scout had a pony with him amazed his hearers, and in surprise they looked about to see where the animal could be.
For a moment, Nig enjoyed the mystification of the cowpunchers, then finally got to his feet.
“Cowmen no know all Injun trick,” he chuckled. “Long ago, Injun had be heap smart. Deadshot could fool paleface. Me show.”
Eagerly the two men followed Nig, wondering whether or not he was playing a joke on them, or leading them into a trap.
But their suspicions of the old scout were quickly allayed.
Scarce a rod had they gone from the fire than the old scout stopped, bent over, swept aside the grass with his hand and beckoned to his companions.
There, stretched flat on its side where it had been deftly, covered with mesquite, lay a flea-bitten pony.
“Man, dear, but that’s some trick!” ejaculated Deadshot, in undisguised admiration of the cleverness with which the animal had been hidden.
“That’s what!” acquiesced Ki Yi. “How do you do it, Nig?”
“Train um pinto.”