Be careful,
though, how you show yourself; there's at least fifty of these
peacemakers within four or five miles, and a shot or a yell will bring
them on a high run."
Hicks and Bevans, whatever their destination, were in no haste. They
rode at a walk most of the time, and we were forced to keep the same
pace. It was slow work poking along those coulee-bottoms, now and then
making a risky sneak to ground, whence we could get a clear view of the
game we were stalking so assiduously.
Progressing in this manner we finally reached the breaks that ran down
to Lost River, not a great distance from where MacRae and I had kicked
over the traces of legally constituted authority the previous day. Here
we had to dodge over a stretch of ground barren of concealment, and to
do so waited till such time as Hicks and Bevans were themselves in the
depths of a coulee.
When next we caught sight of our men--well, to be exact, we saw only
one, and that was Bevans. He had stopped his horse on top of a knoll not
more than four hundred yards to the north of us, and was standing up in
his stirrups staring over the ears of his horse at a point down the
slope. Hicks had disappeared. Nor did we see aught of him during the
next few minutes that we spent glaring at Bevans and the surrounding
territory.
Pages:
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151