It was no time or place for an extended conversation. With the sound of rifles and cannons ringing in their ears, and surrounded by a crowd of disheveled-looking Mexicans, in whose faces seemed to be reflected all the angry, fierce passions of the moment, Cranny briefly related his tale.
Anxious looks immediately sprang into the Ramblers’ faces.
“By George! It looks bad!” cried Tom.
Bob nodded.
“I don’t like it a little bit!” he acknowledged.
“It means that we’ll have to chase ’em up,” declared Tom vigorously.
“An’ come back here, every now an’ again!” asserted Cranny.
“Yes!” Then Tom, in answer to Cranny’s pleading to know something about their own experiences, began to explain, in quick, jerky sentences.
The mustangs, restive and excited, pawing the ground, and continually trying to dash away, made talking extremely difficult; but notwithstanding this, Cranny quickly learned all the principal features. Tom told him about the history of Jimmy Raymond, how he had met Colonel Brookes Sylvester, and his subsequent trip over the prairie to the Rangers’ quarters, where he found Bob Somers and the others all “worked-up” over his long absence.
Then he had borrowed a fresh horse from Fred Cole, and in company with Bob set out for the town across the river. Arriving there rather late in the evening, the two had put up at company headquarters of the Rangers, intending to start off the first thing in the morning after Jimmy Raymond and bring him back to Texas.