“Yes.”
“What of old Naab? Won't he come down here now to lead us Mormons against the rustlers?”
“He called the Navajos across the river. He meant to take the trail alone and kill Holderness, keeping the Indians back a few days. If he failed to return then they were to ride out on the rustlers. But his plan must be changed, for I came ahead of him.”
“For what? Mescal?”
“No. For Holderness.”
“You'll kill him!”
“Yes.”
“He'll be coming soon?—When?”
“To-morrow, possibly by daylight. He wants Mescal. There's a chance Naab may have reached Silver Cup before Holderness left, but I doubt it.”
“May I know your plan?” The Mormon hesitated while his strong brown face flashed with daring inspiration. “I—I've a good reason.”