who's here too! Good old Applegate and Brother Espalin. I wonder now
if they're goin' to give me the cut direct, like Creagan did? You
notice, Mr. Breslin."

The horsemen rode into the corral.

"No; don't go, Sheriff," said Anastacio.

"I'm anxious to see if those two will recognize Ananias the Amateur.
They'll be here directly. You, either, Creagan. Else I'll shoot you
both in the back, accidentally, cleaning my gun."

From without was the sound of spurred feet in haste; three men
appeared at the open door.

"Why, if it ain't George! Good old George!" cried Pringle, rising
with outstretched arms. "And my dear friend Espalin! What a charming
reunion!"

Applegate's eyes threw a startled question at his chief and at
Creagan; Espalin slipped swiftly back through the door.

"I don't know you, sir," said Applegate.

"George! You're never going to disown me! Joe's gone, too. Nobody
loves me!"

The third man, a grizzled and bristly old warrior with a limp, broke
in with a roar.

"What in hell's going on here?" he stormed.

"You are, for one thing, if you don't moderate your voice," said
Anastacio. "Nueces, you bellow like the bulls of Bashan. Mr.
Applegate, meet Mr. Pringle."

"What does he mean, then, by such monkeyshines?" demanded the
other--old Nueces River, chief of police, ex-ranger, and, for this
occasion, deputy sheriff. "I got no time for foolishness. And you
can't run no whizzer on me, Barela. Don't you try it!"

"Oh, they're just joking, Nueces," said the Major. "Tell us how about
it. Here, I'll light the lamp; it's getting dark. Find any sign of
Foy?"

Nueces leveled a belligerent finger at the Major.

"You've been joking, too! I've heard about you. Lisner, I'm ashamed of
you! Let Vorhis pull the wool over your eyes, while you sit here and
jaw all afternoon, doing nothing!"

"Why, what did you find out?"

"A-plenty. Them stiffs you sent out found Foy's horse, to begin with."

"Sure it was Foy's horse?" queried Lisner eagerly.

"Sure! I know the horse--that big calico horse of his."

"Why didn't you follow him up?"

"Follow hell! Oh, some of the silly fools are milling round out
there--going over to the San Andres to-night to take a big hunt
manana. Not me. That horse was a blind. They pottered round tryin' to
find some trace of Foy--blind fools!--till I met up with 'em. I'd done
gathered in that mizzable red-headed Joe Cowan on a give-out horse,
claim-in' he'd been chousin' after broom