"I ain't goin' on any picnic," Yellin' Kid answered. "Be back soon."
He left the protection of the house and in a moment was lost sight of in the darkness. It wasn't far to the corral, and as he approached the horses stirred uneasily.
"All right there, ponies," the Kid called softly. At the sound of a familiar voice the restless moving stopped, and the animals suffered the Kid to walk in among them.
"Lonesome, hey?" he said in a low tone. "So am I. Don't like this hangin' around nohow! Wish we'd have some action." He stroked the nose of one of the steeds. The horse whinnied softly in response. "Wish I had my own cayuse here," the Kid mused. "Hated to lose her. Best bronc I ever had. Golly, it's dark!"
As though to dispute him the moon suddenly slid from behind the clouds. The Kid looked about him—at the ranch house, standing gaunt and silent, and at the little group of men waiting motionless—and at the moonlit road, stretching far out over the prairie. There'd be no smugglers to-night. Why, you could see for miles down that road, now. Not a thing in—what was that? The Kid stared harder. There, about a mile away, lurching from side to side? It must be—a car! Coming fast, too!
For a moment the Kid stood quietly. Then with a leap he made for the ranch house. As he reached the men the moon disappeared again, and the scene was blotted out.
"Hey!" he called in a repressed yell. "They're comin'!"
"What!" The group turned like a flash, as one man. "Who's coming? Where?"
"Down the road! An automobile!"
Excitement spread like a wave.