"Good! But don't bank too heavily on it, for I shall return."
"How about food?" inquired Rose, as the outlaw walked toward the door.
"There's enough in that canvas bag. I helped myself to some of the troopers' stores while I was waiting to get back to the Cave. When I come back, I'll bring more."
And opening the door, the desperado stepped forth into the night.
Familiar with every rock and pebble in the trail, Rogers descended rapidly to the valley.
"Guess I'd better have a mount," he muttered to himself, as he came upon a dozen or more of the cavalry horses.
Having a wonderful power over animals, the outlaw was able, by speaking soothingly, to pick out a horse, just as he had done to the Mounted Scouts, and was soon threading his way up the trail down which he had fled the day before.
Riding with caution until he was out of danger of discovery by the troopers, Rogers headed his mount for the cabin of old Quint, which he reached just at daybreak.
"Go into the woods and up to the spring," piped a shrill voice from behind a half-opened window shutter, in response to Rogers' three taps on the door. "I'll follow right along."
Quickly the desperado obeyed, and was soon joined by a small, hunched-backed man with long gray hair and beard.