Winthrop, smiling serenely, nodded. "Sorry to have to do it. I know I don't look like that kind, and I'm not, but I happen to know how."
"I didn't doctor the brandy, as you intimated," said Winthrop. "And you needn't finger that belt of yours. I haven't a gun with me, and I believe it is not the thing for one man to use a gun on another when the--er--victim happens to be unarmed."
The horseman, who had courage, admired Winthrop's attitude. He rode between them. "Cut it out, Hicks," he said. "You're actin' locoed. Guess you're carryin' your load yet. I'll talk to the kid. We 're losing time. See here, stranger...."
Overland, watching and listening from his hiding-place, grinned as the constable sullenly mounted his horse.
Winthrop politely but firmly declined to acknowledge that he had had a companion. Overland was pleased and the riders were baffled by the young man's subtle evasion of answering them directly.
"Size of it is, you're stung," said the man who had questioned Winthrop last. "He's lit out, now he's done you."
The horsemen rode away, following the circle of burro tracks toward the hills. Winthrop watched them, wondering what had become of his companion. He could hardly believe that the tramp had deserted him, yet the evidence was pretty plain. Even his revolver was gone, and his belt and cartridges. Winthrop yawned. He was hungry. There was no food. But there was water. He walked toward the water-hole.
Winthrop jumped back, startled and trembling. The voice seemed to come from the water-hole at his feet.
Winthrop smiled. If it were a disembodied spirit talking, it was no other than the spirit of Overland Red. The accent was unmistakable. The Easterner glanced round and observed a peculiar something behind the brush edging the rise beyond the water-hole.
"It's me," said Overland, still concealed. "Thought I quit you, eh? Are them fellas out of sight yet?"
"No. They're still in sight. They are too far to see anything, though."
"And you can see them all right, son? That don't figure out correct."
Winthrop laughed. "That's so. Where's the burro?"
"He's hid--right in plain sight up a little arroyo."
"Won't they find him, and confiscate him and the things?"
"Not on your life! 'T ain't exactly healthy, even for constables, to go round confiscatin' outfits they don't know who's connected with. They can't say for sure that burro and stuff is mine. They'll look it over and leave it right there."