"Well," said Bill, "I dunno, but 't seems like ef I was Sher'ff an' I got my hooks onto a bird like this here Yancy-Ross person, I dunno 's it'd be necessary to ask the cuss to do any great 'mount of explainin'. The's a powerful lot o' nice trees on the way to the Bar O!"
"So the' is," said the Sheriff, "now 't I cum to think of it! They ain't bore no 'fruit' fer a consider'ble spell, neither, hev they?"
"Not sence them other rustlers was discouraged 'bout three or four years back. Some o' my boys 'd be plumb tickled to death t' escort them hombreys t' jail—er some place."
"Hmm," said the Sheriff, meditatively. "I'll think it over."
At this moment Whitey and Injun came up to Bill, all excitement.
"Pedro isn't here!" said Whitey. "He was here just before you came, but he's not among the prisoners."
"Him Pedro gone!" said Injun laconically.
Jordan was all attention in a second: "Here, Walker, Bob, an' the lot o' yo'—the boys says thet our ol' friend Pedro was here jes' before we cum! Take a gang an' go over this dump with a fine-tooth comb! I'll give fifty dollars to the man thet brings him in, an' I ain't pertic'lar what kind o' condition he's in, neither!"
"Yes, an' I'll add another fifty to it!" put in the Sheriff. "An' the deader he is, the better I'll like it!" he added, heartily. "Thet coyote has cost the county 'bout enough as 't is!"
A thorough search of the house, cellar, and the vicinity failed to reveal any trace of Pedro, much to the chagrin of Bill Jordan, not to mention that of those who were desirous of earning a hundred dollars.