“Thank you, gentlemen,” replied Johnny quietly. “If by accident you should happen to see the desperado in question–who, I assume, can be in no way your friend–I hope you will tell him that I, too, will be at the Bella Union at eight o’clock, and that I will come heeled.”
“You’ll be comin’ alone?” said the man, “or p’rhaps yore friend─”
“My friend, as you call him, is simply a miner, and has nothing to do with this,” interrupted Johnny emphatically.
“I thank you, sir,” said the spokesman, rising.
The other two, who had throughout said no word, followed his example.
“Do you know Danny Randall?” asked Johnny as they moved off.
If he had presented his derringer under their noses, they could not have stopped more suddenly. They stared at each other a moment.
“Is he a friend of yours?” inquired the spokesman after an uncertain moment.
“He likes fair play,” said Johnny enigmatically.
The trio moved off in the direction of town.