“Yes. I guess he expected me to go on the same train.”
“Prob’ly did. I told him yuh was goin’ away this mornin’.”
Barnhardt went back to his office, his mind still traveling in circles. He knew what would happen if he accused Tex Alden of opening the safe. Tex was hotheaded, and Barnhardt knew he could never best Tex in any kind of a fair fight. If he accused Tex of theft, he’d never get his money and papers back.
So Barnhardt decided to wait and see, even if the waiting did gall his soul. No one, except himself and the man who opened the safe, knew that such a thing had been done. He had thought of having Tex arrested, but decided that his evidence against Tex only consisted of Tex’s knowing that the eight thousand was in the safe. Barnhardt had counted the package of money, when he was alone, and it contained that amount of currency.
Sleepy, Jimmy and Marion did not ride back to the ranch on the road, but circled through the hills. It was early morning, and they were in no hurry to return. A coyote invited them to a race, and they gave him what he was looking for. Only a barrier of mesquite, into which he sped like a gray shadow, saved him from Sleepy’s loop.
Flocks of white-wing doves hurtled past them, heading for the water-holes; quail called from the slopes; a deer broke from a thicket, and after a few short, stiff-legged jumps, headed up a slope, head cocked back, walking jerkily.
They were nearing the ranch when they described a flock of buzzards, circling low over a little ravine, like scraps of black paper, caught in the grip of a whirlwind.
“Somebody lost a cow,” said Sleepy, “and it’s eatin’ time for Mr. Buzzard.”
“I hope it isn’t any of our stock,” said Marion. “We can’t afford to feed any buzzards this year.”
Jimmy evinced a desire to investigate; so he and Sleepy rode down to the ravine, while Marion circled higher on the hill. The air suddenly filled with flapping buzzards, croaking hoarsely; possibly swearing in their own language on being interrupted at their morning meal.