Wherefore there was silence after Farnum had spoken, broken at length by
the amiable voice of the fat ranchman, Baker.
"Well, we'll see what we'll see," he wheezed complacently. "And anyways I
got to have some horseshoe plug, Melissy."
The girl laughed nervously as she reached for what he wanted. "You're a
safe prophet, Mr. Baker," she said.
"He'd be a safe one if he'd prophesy that Jack Flatray would have Mr.
Hold-up in the calaboose inside of three days," put in a half-grown lad in
leathers.
"I ain't so sure about that. You'll have to show me, and so will Mr.
Deputy Sheriff Flatray," retorted Farnum.
A shadow darkened the doorway.
"Good afternoon, gentlemen all--and Miss Lee," a pleasant voice drawled.
The circle of eyes focused on the new-comer and saw a lean, muscular,
young fellow of medium height, cool and alert, with the dust of the desert
on every sunbaked inch of him.
"I'm damned if it ain't Jack here already!" gasped Baker.