“No, that’s true, Mac. But if Joe wasn’t guilty, why didn’t he stay until it could be cleared up? Ah! there’s Ralston!”
Through the window they saw the deputy ride up in front of the court-house, where he talked with several men. Merrick and McLaren went out to him. It seemed as if all the cowboys had disappeared. Ralston spurred over in front of the Pinnacle and went into the saloon, but came out again.
McLaren smothered a grin. The cowboys knew that Ralston would deputize them to ride with him, and they would be obliged to obey his orders; but if he couldn’t find them—that was a different matter.
“By ⸺, they all ducked!” snorted Ralston angrily.
“Looks like it,” agreed Merrick. “Well, I’ll go with yuh, Jack. If we can’t do any better, we might find some of the boys at my ranch. By ⸺, they won’t sneak out on yuh!”
Merrick crossed the street to the Pinnacle hitch-rack and mounted his horse. Ralston went back to the office and got an extra Winchester for Merrick, and they rode away at a swift gallop.
They had barely disappeared when the Heavenly Triplets showed up. They had rolled under the sidewalk near where Joe had shot Kelsey. From the depths of an empty wagon-box farther up the street came Abe Liston, of the 3W3. Slim Coleman, of the Lazy B, sauntered out of the narrow alley between the Pinnacle Saloon and a feed-store.
The Heavenly Triplets were fairly sober now—too sober to think of anything funny to do; so they headed for the Pinnacle Saloon.
“Hey, you snake-hunters!” yelled Slim Coleman. “Didn’t yuh ride away with the posse?”
“We shore did!” replied Lonnie. “Couldn’t find a thing. C’mon and have a drink, you man-hunter.”