But another automobile, bigger and more
powerful and black, slipped out of this same enclosure upon another street,
and turned eastward instead of west. This machine made for the mesa by a
somewhat roundabout course, and emerged, by way of a rough trail up a certain
draw in the edge of the tableland, to the main road where it turns the corner
of the cemetery. From there the driver drove as fast as he dared until he
reached the hill that borders Tijeras Arroyo. There being no sign of pursuit
to this point, he crossed the Arroyo at a more leisurely pace. Then he went
speeding away into the edge of the mountains until they reached one of those
deep, deserted dry washes that cut the foothills here and there near Coyote
Springs. There his passengers left him and disappeared up the dry wash.
Before the wound on the cashier's head had stopped bleeding, the black
automobile was returning innocently to town and no man guessed what business
had called it out upon the mesa.
CHAPTER VIII. THE SONG OF THE OMAHA
"Me, I theenk yoh not lov' me so moch as a pin," Ramon complained in soft
reproach, down in the dry wash where Applehead had looked in vain for baling
wire.
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