"They're there all right, Jim," he announced.
"I just got a glimpse o' two back in the brush yonder. What made yer
ask me 'bout Pasqual Mendez this mornin'? You don't hook the Mexican
up with this affair, do yer?"
"Sadie told me she heard Enright speak of him at breakfast; that was
all she heard, just the name."
"Sadie? Oh, the red-headed waitress at Timmons's, you mean? Big Tim's
girl?"
"Yes; she was the one who saw Miss Donovan forced into the wagon, and
driven off."
"And they took the old Shoshone trail; out past Hennessey's ranch?"
"So she described it. Does that mean anything?"
Brennan did not answer at once, sitting silent, his brows wrinkled,
staring through a crevasse of the rock up the stream. Finally he
grinned into the anxious face of the other.
"Danged if I know," he said drawlingly. "Maybe it does, and maybe
again it don't. I was sorter puttin' this an' that tergether. There's
a Mex who used to hang about here a couple of years ago they allers
said belonged to Mendez's gang. His name is Cateras, a young feller,
an' a hell ov a gambler.
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