"I wonder if that square-jawed devil has got a glimpse of us and is
trying a lone-handed stalk himself?" I hazarded.
MacRae shook his head. "Not likely," he said. "If it was Paul Gregory,
now, that's the very thing he'd do. I don't quite _sabe_ this
performance."
We watched for sign of Hicks, but without result. Then Bevans got under
way and moved along at the same poky gait as before. When he had gone
some distance we took to the hollow. Twenty minutes jogging brought us
into a stretch of rough country, a series of knobs and ridges cut by
innumerable coulees. Here it became necessary to locate Mr. Bevans
again. Once more he was revealed on top of an elevation, studying the
surrounding landscape, and he was still alone.
"Where the mischief can Hicks have got to?" Mac growled. "We really
ought to smell him out before we do anything."
"Look, now," I said. "Don't you suppose Bevans is waiting for him?"
Bevans had dismounted and stretched himself on the ground in the shade
of his horse. But he was not napping; on the contrary, he was very much
on the alert, for his head turned slowly from side to side, quiescent as
he seemed; there would be little movement pass unobserved within range
of that pair of eyes.
"Maybe he is," MacRae replied. "Anyhow, I think we'd better wait a while
ourselves.
Pages:
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152