CHAPTER XIV. ONE PUT OVER ON THE BUNCH
"Sounds to me," volunteered the irrepressible Big Medicine after a heavy
silence, "like as if you'd gone to sleep on your hawse, Little One, and
dreamed that there tinkle-tinkle stuff. By cripes, I'd like to see the
bell-hawse that could walk away from ME 'nless I was asleep an' dreamin' about
it. Sounds like--"
"Sounds like Navvy work," Applehead put in, eyeing the surrounding rim of
sun-gilded mesa, where little brown birds fluttered in short, swift flights
and chirped with exasperating cheerfulness.
"If it was anybody, it was Ramon Chavez," Luck declared with the positiveness
of his firm conviction. "By the tracks here, we're crowding up on him. And no
man that's guilty of a crime, Applehead, is going to ride day after day
without wanting to take a look over his shoulder to see if be's followed. He's
probably seen us from some of these ridges--yesterday, most likely. And do you
think he wouldn't know this bunch as far as he could see us, even without
glasses? The chances are he has them, though. He'd be a fool if he didn't
stake himself to a pair."
"Say, by gracious," Andy observed somewhat irrelevantly, his eyes going over
the group, "this would sure make great picture dope, wouldn't it? Why didn't
we bring Pete along, darn it? Us all standing around here, plumb helpless
because we're afoot--"
"Aw, shut up!" snapped Pink, upon whom the burden of responsibility lay heavy.
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