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"But he's
alive again. He told me he'd been in Idaho fer two years, in the gold-fields.
Said the work was too hard, so he'd come back here. Laughed when he said it,
the little devil! I'll bet he was thinkin' of thet wagon-train of mine he
stole."
Bostil gazed at his chief rider.
"Wal, I reckon we didn't kill Sears, after all," replied Holley. "I wasn't
never sure."
"Lord! Cordts an' Sears in camp," ejaculated Bostil, and he began to pace the
room.
"No, they're gone now," said Brackton.
"Take it easy, boss. Sit down," drawled Holley. "The King is safe, an' all the
racers. I swear to thet. Why, Cordts couldn't chop into thet log-an'-wire
corral if he an' his gang chopped all night! They hate work. Besides, Farlane
is there, an' the boys."
This reassured Bostil, and he resumed his chair. But his hand shook a little.
"Did Cordts have anythin' to say?" he asked.
"Sure. He was friendly an' talkative," replied Brackton. "He came in just
after dark. Left a man I didn't see out with the hosses. He bought two big
packs of supplies, an' some leather stuff, an', of course, ammunition.


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