We trailed a hoss to this here wickiup"--the hot lust of the
man-hunt was in the cowboy's eyes as he swung down--"and we aim to see
who was ridin' him!"
Houck and his three companions sat their horses as the fourth member of
the posse shouldered the old Indian aside and entered the shack.
"Nothin' in there," he said, as he reappeared, "but somebody's been
here this mornin'." And he pointed to the imprint of a high-heeled
boot in the sand of the yard.
"Which way did he ride?" asked Houck, indicating the footprint.
The old herder shook his head. "Quien sabe?" he grunted, shrugging his
shoulders.
"Who knows, eh? Well, you know--for one. And you're goin' to say--or
there'll be a heap big bonfire right here where your shack is."
Meanwhile one of the men, who had pushed out into the desert and was
riding in a circle, hallooed and waved his arm.
"He headed this way," he called. "Some one dragged a blanket over his
trail."
The cowboy who was afoot strode up to the herder. "We'll learn you to
play hoss with this outfit!" He swung his quirt and struck the Indian
across the face.
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