Ware returned to headquarters toward evening of the next day. He had ridden hard and long, but he listened to Thorne's definition of his new duties with kindling eye, and considerable appearance of quiet satisfaction. Bob met him outside the office.
"You aren't living up to your part, Ware," said he, with mock anxiety. "According to Hoyle you ought to draw your gun, whirl the cylinder, and murmur gently, Aha!"
"Why should I do that?" asked Ware, considerably mystified.
"To see if your weapon is in order, of course."
"How would a fool trick like that show whether my gun's in shape?"
"Hanged if I know," confessed Bob, "but they always do that in books and on the stage."
"Well, my gun will shoot," said Ware, shortly.
It was then too late to visit Welton that evening, but at a good hour the following morning Bob announced his intention of going over to the mill.
"If you're going to be my faithful guardian, you'll have to walk," he told Ware. "My horse is up north somewhere, and there isn't another saddle in camp."
"I'm willing," said Ware; "my animals are plumb needy of a rest."