So be good.
You'll see us again before long."
When we were ready to mount, MacRae fired another question at Burky.
"Say, have you seen anything of Frank Hicks or Paul Gregory to-day?"
"They was both in camp at noon," the trooper replied.
"Huh! They were, eh?" MacRae swung up, and spoke from the saddle. "Well,
if you see them again, tell them we'll sure give them a hard run for
the money. And if you've got your month's pay on you, Burky, you'd
better keep your hand on it while those two pilgrims are about."
We took the third horse along as a precautionary measure. At a boulder
down the ridge we left him, together with their belts, as Mac had
promised. The only bit of their property we kept besides the horses was
a pair of field-glasses--something that we knew would be priceless to
men who were practically outlawed. For the next two hours we slunk like
coyotes in coulee-bottoms and deep washouts, until we saw the commissary
wagon cross the ridge west of Lost River, saw from a safe distance the
brown specks that were riders, casting in wide circles for sight of us
or our trail.
Then MacRae leaned over his saddle-horn and made a wry face at them.
"Hunt, confound you," he said, almost cheerfully. "We'll give you some
hunting to do before you're through with us.
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