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His contempt for the youth of Concho grew apace. The Mexicans were a lazy lot, who either did not want to work or were loath to leave home and follow the sheep. "Jest kids!" he remarked contemptuously as his fifth attempt failed. "I could lick the whole bunch!" Finally he located a half-grown youth who said he was willing to go.
Any hesitancy he had in regard to riding the outlaw was the outcome of discretion rather than of fear. Bailey had said there was no work for him. Pete felt that he had rather risk his neck a dozen times than to return to the town of Concho and tell Roth that he had been unsuccessful in getting work. Yet Pete did not forget his shrewdness. He would bargain with the foreman.
He knew that his master's disappearance had not been voluntary. He also knew that his own appearance alone at the Concho would be evidence that something had gone wrong. Once well outside the town, Chance settled to a long, steady stride that ate into the miles. At the water-hole he leaped the closed gate and drank.
As he rose and pulled on his overalls he thought of the messenger. He knew that somewhere back on the northern trail the men of the Olla were pushing a herd of cattle slowly south, cattle from the T-Bar-T, the Blue, and . . . he suddenly recalled Harper's remark "And countin' the Concho stuff . . ." Pete thought of Jim Bailey and Andy White, and of pleasant days riding for the Concho.
No use showin' your hand so early in the game." And Shoop laughed. "Well, she's full six aces," said Fadeaway, touching his holster significantly. "And Jack throws the fastest gun on the Concho," said Shoop, his genial smile gone; his face flushed. "I been your friend, if I do say it, Fade. But don't you go away with any little ole idea that I ain't workin' for Jack Corliss." "What's that to me?
The trail followed the course of the river for several miles in the direction of the Concho Springs; but, at last, turned abruptly to the left, and commenced the ascent of the great "divide" which separates the waters of the Pecos from the headwaters of the San Pedro, leading us directly towards the former stream. For many hours we rode, hoping each moment to obtain a sight of the Indians.
Despite the fact that it was Andy White, Houck took no chances, but searched him. Then, "what in hell was your idea?" "Me? Why, I was ridin' to the Concho when one of you guys shot my hat off. I reckoned it was about time to pull up." "Ridin' to the Concho, eh? I suppose you'll say next that you got lost and thought the Concho was over this way?" "Nope.
That Young Pete should again return to the cabin and there unexpectedly meet Gary was undreamed of as a possibility by either of them; yet fate had planned this very thing "otherwise," argues the Fatalist, "how could it have happened?" To say that Young Pete had any definite plan when he left Concho and took up with an old Mexican sheep-herder would be stretching the possibilities.
Sundown could hear her call for Juan. Presently Nell Loring came to the room, checked an exclamation of surprise as she recognized him, and stepping forward, offered her hand. "You're from Mr. Corliss. I remember. . . . Is Chance all right now?" "Yes, ma'am. He is enjoyin' fust-rate health. He eats reg'lar and rabbits in between. But I ain't from the Concho, lady.
Well, it seems that four companies of infantry from Fort McKavett, which were out for field practice, were going to be brought into this post to be paid three months' wages. This, with the troops stationed at Concho, would turn loose quite a wad of money.
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