had established the hiding place; momentarily he expected to hear the noise of hoofs which would be Andy Dorson's party swinging into the Spout for the early-morning attack. Finally he could contain his patience no longer. Bidding Timberline and Hank remain with the prisoners, he mounted Tige and pushed cautiously out of the pine thicket on to the road.
The sky was pulsing with a golden and crimson glory, telling that beyond the eastern rim of the valley the sun already was up. It was full time that his men, directed to move their wagons and remuda by night to a cache near Tisdale's and swing into the Spout by the Tisdale road before sunup, should be on hand. It was past time, in fact. Ere this, Original reflected, the kidnapping of Whistler and his bodyguard from the cabin at Bar C must have been discovered. Any sort of trailer among the outlaws could readily read the tale told by the hoofs of three strange horses and pursuit was inevitable if it were not already started.
Once again he read his watch; it said five-fifteen. He had just turned Tige down the road in the direction of the valley gate, a mile away, when the noise his ears had strained to hear came faintly to them—a beat-beat of hoofs.
