"I've been expecting you ever since I heered the news," said he, without any word of greeting. "But you can't stay here."
Though Quint had always been a man of few words, he had, nevertheless, been the one friend in whom Rogers placed implicit reliance. Indeed, the old man had planned many of his raids, sharing royally in the loot, and the brevity of his greeting piqued the outlaw.
"Who said anything about staying here?" he demanded, angrily. "I've got other business."
These words seemed to bring great relief to the old man.
"Just come to say good-bye, eh? Well, I wish you luck. Anything I can do for you? Need any money?"
"Not a cent. But I tell you what I do want. I want to know where I can find Jerry Hooper, Zeb Cross and Al Bender."
These were the names of the three plainsmen who had killed Barney Landon, and as he heard them, Quint looked at the bandit keenly.
"Take my advice, and you'll leave well enough alone. This region is getting mighty hot for you. Better get out before they carry you out," he exclaimed, significantly.
"Thanks, I don't want advice," grinned Rogers. "I want to know where I can find those three fellows."
"You'll find them on their ranches, jest as they used to be."