The note to Mendez meant
little until he discovered where that bandit was to be found. He felt
his flesh prickle in the intensity of his suppressed excitement.
"Shure now, miss," he said insinuatingly. "Mr. Lacy must hev' sint
more insthructions 'long with ye then them. All ther word thet iver
come ter me wus ter saddle oop, ride down here an' mate this man
Enright. I don't aven know fer shure whar ol' Mendez is--likely 'nough
he be in Mexico."
"In Mexico!" indignantly. "Of course not. Lacy said you knew the
trail. It's a place they call 'Sunken Valley'--out there somewhere,"
and Brennan could barely distinguish the movement of her arm
desert-ward. "It's across that sand flat."
"Shoshone?"
"Yes; I couldn't remember the name. That's all I know about it, only
Lacy said you'd been there before."
"Shure, miss," assured the marshal softly, clearly realising that he
had already gone the limit, and that any further questioning must lead
inevitably to trouble. "If it is Sunken Valley I'm ter ride ter,
thet's aisy."
"Then it's good night.
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