As the queer trio loped along to the camp where the rest of the avengers were eagerly awaiting the return of the two cowboys and hoping against hope that they would be successful, not only in locating the old Indian scout, but in persuading him to lend his skill and assistance in running the Midnight Raider to his lair, Slippery Nig regaled his companions with tales of his past exploits. And many were the pointers he gave his eager listeners as to trailing and woodcraft.
But when they drew near their destination, the old scout grew reticent and by the time they reached their fellows, he was as stolid of feature and as taciturn as the proverbial Indian chieftain.
“What luck?” called Bowser, as the tramp of the ponies reached the ears of the waiting men.
“We’ve got him,” returned Ki Yi.
In delight, all the cowboys, Hawks and even the suffering owner of the Double Cross ranch got to their feet and hastened to greet and get a glimpse of the man upon whose skill they were depending to send the spectral raider to his much-deserved doom.
“Hello, old chap!” exclaimed Bowser, extending his hand cordially to the old scout. “I’m sure glad Deadshot found you. We’re in a mighty bad way, as I suppose he’s told you.”
But Slippery Nig made no more move to shake the hand or return the greeting than if the owner of the Double Cross were not in existence.
“Surly old duffer, ain’t he?” grinned Dude.
Yet even this comment upon his manner failed to draw a sign from the aged scout that he was aware of the presence of the cowboys and the ranchmen.
Nonplused by the refusal of their advances, the men gazed at one another in perplexity, deeming that it was necessary for the success of the pursuit that they should win Nig’s good graces. Even a word from Deadshot failed to elicit any response, and they were at their wits’ ends to know what to do to restore his good humor, when Grouch chanced to solve the mystery of his taciturnity.