“Why, the driver of that red car told me——”
“I guess he told you what some one else told me. I was informed that you had come into the country with Mr. Random, of Random & Griggs, and that you wanted me to follow you. That’s why I’m here.”
McGlory slumped into a chair, and brushed a hand across his forehead.
“Sufferin’ brain twisters!” he muttered. “I came out here to find you, and you came out here to find me!”
“And here we are,” laughed Matt.
“And what are we here for?” gasped McGlory.
“Give it up. But I think somebody has made a big mistake, and that they’re going to find it out before they’re many hours older. If that’s our supper on the table, suppose we get busy with it. I haven’t had anything to eat since morning.”
“I had dinner in Bridgeport,” said McGlory. “I was mighty well treated, I’ll say that—and that only makes it harder for me to understand what’s in the wind. I don’t think any one would run away with us just for the fun of the thing.”
“It would be more of a joke on the other fellows than it would on us,” averred Matt, moving to the table and taking a seat. “How long has this supper been here, Joe?”
“About half an hour,” returned the cowboy, taking a chair opposite his chum. “Random is here,” he said suddenly.