for a train-robber.

He rode at an easy trot most of the night, and when the black peak of
Ord Mountain loomed up against the stars he halted, tied his horse, and
slept until dawn. He had brought a small pack, and now he took his time
cooking breakfast. When the sun was well up he saddled Bullet, and,
leaving the trail where his tracks showed plain in the ground, he put
his horse to the rocks and brush. He selected an exceedingly rough,
roundabout, and difficult course to Ord, hid his tracks with the skill
of a long-hunted fugitive, and arrived there with his horse winded and
covered with lather. It added considerable to his arrival that the man
Duane remembered as Fletcher and several others saw him come in the back
way through the lots and jump a fence into the road.

Duane led Bullet up to the porch where Fletcher stood wiping his beard.
He was hatless, vestless, and evidently had just enjoyed a morning
drink.

"Howdy, Dodge," said Fletcher, laconically.

Duane replied, and the other man returned the greeting with interest.

"Jim, my hoss 's done up. I want to hide him from any chance tourists as
might happen to ride up curious-like."

"Haw! haw! haw!"

Duane gathered encouragement from that chorus of coarse laughter.

"Wal, if them tourists ain't too durned snooky the hoss'll be safe in
the 'dobe shack back of Bill's here. Feed thar, too, but you'll hev to
rustle water."

Duane led Bullet to the place indicated, had care of his welfare, and
left him there. Upon returning to the tavern porch Duane saw the group
of men had been added to by others, some of whom he had seen before.
Without comment Duane walked along the edge of the road, and wherever
one of the tracks of his horse showed he carefully obliterated it. This
procedure was attentively watched by Fletcher and his companions.

"Wal, Dodge," remarked Fletcher, as Duane returned, "thet's safer 'n
prayin' fer rain."

Duanes reply was a remark as loquacious as Fletcher's, to the effect
that a long, slow, monotonous ride was conducive to thirst. They all
joined him, unmistakably friendly. But Knell was not there, and most
assuredly not Poggin. Fletcher was no common outlaw, but, whatever his
ability, it probably lay in execution of orders. Apparently at that
time these men had nothing to do but drink and lounge around the tavern.
Evidently they were poorly supplied with money, though Duane observed
they could borrow a peso occasionally from the bartend