A little farther, on
a line between the Crossing and the Spring, Piegan pulled up again, and
this time the cause of his halting needed no explanation. The bunch had
stopped and tarried there a few minutes, as the jumbled hoof-marks bore
witness, and the track of two horses led away toward Ten Mile Spring.
"Darn it all!" Piegan grumbled. "Now, what d'yuh reckon's the meanin' uh
that? Them two has lit straight for where Baker's layout was camped this
mornin'. What for? Are they pullin' out uh the country with the coin? Or
are they lookin' for you fellers?"
"Well"--MacRae thought a moment--"considering the care they've taken to
cover up their movements, I don't see what other object they could have
in view but making a smooth getaway. They've worked it nicely all
around. You know that if there was anything they wanted they weren't
taking any risk by going to any freight camp. We're the only men in the
country that know why they are pulling out this way--and _they_ know
that we daren't go in and report it, because they've managed to put us
on the dodge. They have reason to be sure that headquarters wouldn't for
a minute listen to a yarn like we'd have to tell--they'd have time to
ride to Mexico, while we sucked our thumbs in the guardhouse waiting for
the rest of the Police to get wise by degrees.
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