Horsemen boiled from the yard gate with uproar and hullabaloo; Pringle
heard their shouts; he saw the glare of soap weeds, fired to help
their search.
The lights died away; the shouts grew fainter: they swelled again as
the searchers straggled back, vociferous. Pringle caught scraps of
talk as they watered their horses.
"Clean getaway!"
"One bad actor, that _hombre_!"
"Regular Go-Getter!"
"Batting average about thirteen hundred, I should figger."
"Life-size he-man! Where do you suppose----"
"Saw a lad make just such another break once in Van Zandt County----"
"Say! Who're you crowdin'?"
"Hi, fellers! Bill's giving some more history of the state of Van
Zandt!"
"Applegate's pretty bad hurt."
"----in a gopher hole and near broke my fool neck."
"Where'd this old geezer come from, anyway? Never heard of him
before!"
"'Tain't fair, just when we was all crowdin' up for supper! He might
have waited."
"This will be merry hell and repeat if he hooks up with Foy," said
Creagan's voice, adding a vivid description of Pringle.
Old Nueces answered, raising his voice:
"He's afoot. We got to beat him to it. Let's ride!"
"That's right," said the sheriff. "But we'll grab something to
eat first. Saddle up, Hargis, and lead us to your little old cave.
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