By the time the strange trio mounted upon the back of the flea-bitten pinto had reached the plains, dusk was upon them, which steadily increased until it was almost pitch dark.
Of a sudden, as they mounted a rise in the prairies, the aged scout pointed ahead.
In the distance could be seen the fitful flicker of a fire.
“Man, dear, you don’t suppose that could be the Midnight Raider, do you?” eagerly inquired Deadshot.
“What, Louie build a fire when um know um being hunted? Injun no such fool,” retorted Nig, with infinite scorn in his voice.
“Then who is it?”
“No know. Think Bowser and palefaces.”
Unable to dispute this assertion, the cowboys held their peace, for they realized that from the actions not only of their bunkmates, but of themselves, they had no right to resent the contempt for their scouting powers which the old half-breed held.
From time to time, as they steadily approached, they could see the form of some man silhouetted against the flare, as he arose and moved about.
“Howling coyotes! but couldn’t we pick him off easy!” exclaimed Ki Yi, after one of these movements which were made without any apparent thought that there might be enemies afoot.