An instant later Flatray had dodged back into the chaparral, for somebody was driving a flock of sheep down to the ditch. He made out that there were two riders behind them, and that they had no dog. For the present his curiosity was satisfied. He thought he knew why they were watering sheep in this odd fashion. Swiftly he had made a circuit, drawn rein in front of the store, and dropped in just in time to hear his name. Now, as with one ear he listened to Alan’s account of the hold-up, with his subconscious mind he was with the sheep-herders who were driving the flock back into the pasture.
“Looks like our friend the bad man was onto his job all right,” was the deputy’s only comment when Alan had finished.
“I’ll bet he’s making his getaway into the hills 101 mighty immediate,” chuckled Baker. “He can’t find a bank in the mountainside to deposit that gold any too soon to suit him.”
“Sho! I’ll bet he ain’t worried a mite. He’s got his arrangements all made, and likely they’ll dovetail to suit him. He’s put his brand on that gold to stay,” answered Farnum confidently.
Jack’s mild blue eyes rested on him amiably. “Think so, Bob?”
“I ain’t knockin’ you any, Jack. You’re all right. But that’s how I figure it out, and, by Gad! I’m hopin’ it too,” Farnum made answer recklessly.
Flatray laughed and strolled from the crowded room to the big piazza. A man had just cantered up and flung himself from his saddle. The ranger, looking at him, thought he had never seen another so strikingly handsome an Apollo. Black eyes looked into his from a sun-tanned face perfectly modelled. The pose of the head and figure would have delighted a sculptor.
There was a vigor, an unspoken hostility, in the gaze of both men.
“Mo’nin”, Mr. Deputy Sheriff, one said; and the other, “Same to you, Mr. Norris.”
“You’re on the job quick,” sneered the cattle detective.