An' the pilgrim--I ain't quite figgered how he stacks up." The
cowpuncher glanced at his watch. "It's time they showed up long ago.
I wonder what's keepin' em." Suddenly he straightened himself with a
jerk: "Good Lord! I wonder if---- But no, not even Purdy would try
_that_. Still, if he knows I know he tried to dope me he'll be
figgerin' on pullin' his freight anyhow, an'--" The man's lips
tightened and, elbowing his way to the door he stepped onto the street
and hurried to the Headquarters saloon. Cinnabar Joe was behind the
bar, apparently none the worse for his dose of chloral, and in answer
to a swift signal, followed the Texan to the rear of the room.
"Does Purdy know I'm wise to his dope game?"
The bartender nodded: "Yes, I told him you must of switched the
glasses."
"I saw him leadin' your horse rigged up with your side-saddle acrost
the flats awhile back."
Again the bartender nodded: "He borrowed the outfit fer a gal of his'n
he said come in on the train. Wanted to take her fer a ride."
"Where'd they go?" The words whipped viciously.
"Search me! I've had my hands full to keep track of what's goin' on in
here, let alone outside."
Without a word the Texan stepped out the back door and hastened toward
the horse corral behind the livery stable. Circling its fence to the
head of the alley, he stared in surprise at the spot where he and Bat
Lajune had tied their horses.
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