"Well, if that ain't just Red's luck," growled Alkali, as the lieutenant read the message aloud.
"It strikes me it's our luck. What do you mean?" demanded Fox.
"I mean six hundred troopers and goodness knows how many posses are hunting for Red to the North and here he is to the South with only a hundred—and them the boniest heads in the bunch—to dodge."
The lieutenant was young, and this contemptuous allusion to the scouting ability of his command and the half-breed's assurance that the outlaw would elude them, angered him.
"Well, if my hundred men can't run one outlaw to cover, especially when our three mounted scouts are trailing him, I'll shoot the whole blooming lot!" he retorted, hotly.
"Keerful! Steady in the ranks! Don't go to making no rash promises!" cautioned Alkali. "Remember, you ain't been up against Red before.
"By the time you're through with him, you're liable to know you've been on a real manhunt."
"That may be. But, I'm not going to begin by whining because I haven't a man for every rock and tree," rejoined the young officer. "If Red Rogers is such a tricky customer, here's the chance for you to show some of your cleverness, Alkali—and win fame and money into the bargain."
Before the lieutenant had ceased speaking, several of the troopers had come up and as they heard their superior's sarcastic words, they grinned appreciatively, for the half-breed was not popular, and was always boasting of his prowess on the trail.
With the arrival of his men, Fox became every inch the officer.