"What does he mean, then, by such monkeyshines?" demanded the
other--old Nueces River, chief of police, ex-ranger, and, for this
occasion, deputy sheriff. "I got no time for foolishness. And you
can't run no whizzer on me, Barela. Don't you try it!"

"Oh, they're just joking, Nueces," said the Major. "Tell us how about
it. Here, I'll light the lamp; it's getting dark. Find any sign of
Foy?"

Nueces leveled a belligerent finger at the Major.

"You've been joking, too! I've heard about you. Lisner, I'm ashamed of
you! Let Vorhis pull the wool over your eyes, while you sit here and
jaw all afternoon, doing nothing!"

"Why, what did you find out?"

"A-plenty. Them stiffs you sent out found Foy's horse, to begin with."

"Sure it was Foy's horse?" queried Lisner eagerly.

"Sure! I know the horse--that big calico horse of his."

"Why didn't you follow him up?"

"Follow hell! Oh, some of the silly fools are milling round out
there--going over to the San Andres to-night to take a big hunt
mañana. Not me. That horse was a blind. They pottered round tryin' to
find some trace of Foy--blind fools!--till I met up with 'em. I'd done
gathered in that mizzable red-headed Joe Cowan on a give-out horse,