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Little Henry used to ride on the high seat with his father, close up to the tail of a Missouri mule, the seventh of a series of eight, including the trailer which his father drove in front of the big wagon. It was the wind of the west that tanned the hide on Henry's face and made him look old before his time. At night they used to arrange the wagons in a ring, in which the freighters slept.
"I'm looking for a man named Perceval," said the stranger; "he lives in that house, and I wanter see him on most particular business. It isn't a very pleasing place he lives in, is it at least," he hurriedly added, as if fearful of giving offence, "it isn't much on the outside? Do you happen to know him?" Perceval was Alf Wolfe's business name. "Nop," said the trailer.
Merriwell's skill as a trailer had enabled him to follow the villains to a point in the vicinity of the mountain where, at the suggestion of Red Ben, Del Norte had sought concealment in a cave, the mouth of which was hidden by thick shrubbery. The craft of Red Ben in covering the trail had bothered and baffled the pursuers for some time.
Either several were working in short shifts, or else the trailer kept so far behind him that the multiplicity of thoughts from the hundreds of people always around masked those of the spy. Hanlon ate a leisurely lunch in a small restaurant, and during the afternoon continued his apparently-aimless sight-seeing. If they were shadowing him, they would have nothing to report, he grinned.
See? It's no good 'anging on to a losing concern. No sort of good. Jest foolishness." "That's all right," said Grubb "that's all right; but it ain't your capital been sunk in it." "No need for us to sink after our capital," said Bert, ignoring the point. "I'm not going to be held responsible for that trailer, anyhow. That ain't my affair." "Nobody arst you to make it your affair.
He had only just returned to the post from a ten days' scout, 'Tonio, the Apache, being his chief trailer and chosen companion on this as on many a previous trip. The two made an odd combination, having little in common beyond that imperturbable self-poise and dignity.
He felt a measure of relief because all doubts were gone now. He was sure that he was followed, but by whom? He knew that his danger had increased manifold. Some Southern scout or skirmisher had discovered his presence and, in such a quest, the trailer had the advantage of the trailed. Yet he did not hesitate.
When he chased the goats out of his back door they went around and came in at the front, determined, he supposed, to bed down near the truck. It was late before that occurred to him, and when it did he cranked up and drove the truck a hundred yards down the road that led to the spring. The goats did not follow as he expected, but stood around the trailer and blatted.
All the same, unnecessary competition would be wasteful in the dale. For example, if you have two tenants at the station, the farmers who deal with the new man must use their carts, each coming separately for the small load a horse can take up Redmire bank, while Bell's trailer, after bringing down the slate, would go back empty.
He is a swift trailer, but not so swift or secretive but some small sailing hawk or lazy crow, perhaps one or two of each, has spied upon him and come drifting down the wind to the killing. No burrower is so unwise as not to have several exits from his dwelling under protecting shrubs.