“And suppose he isn’t there?” said Creagan.  “What would we look like, watching an empty cave two or three days?”

“What do we look like now?  Give you three guesses,” retorted Nueces.  “And how’d we look rushin’ that empty cave if it didn’t happen to be empty?  Excuse me!  I’d druther get three grand heehaws and a tiger for bein’ ridiculous than to have folks tiptoe by a-whisperin’:  ’How natural he looks!’ I been a pretty tough old bird in my day—­but goin’ up a tunnel after Kitty Foy ain’t my idea of foresight.”

“Some man—­some good man, too—­will have to stay here and stand guard on the Major and this fresh guy, Pringle,” said the sheriff thoughtfully.  “He’ll get his slice of the money, of course.”

“You’ll find a many glad to take that end of the job; for,” said Nueces River, “it is in my wise old noddle some of us are going to be festerin’ in Abraham’s bosom before we earn that reward money.  Leave Applegate—­he’s in bad shape for climbing anyway; bruise on his belly big as a washpan.”

“Bronc’ bucked me over on the saddle horn,” explained Applegate.  “Sure, I’ll stay.  And the Pringle person will be right here when you get back, too.”

“Let the Major take some supper in to Miss Vorhis,” suggested Breslin.  “I’ll keep an eye on him.  He can eat with her and cheer her up a little.  This is hard lines for a girl.”

Lisner shrugged his shoulders.

“We have to keep her here till Foy’s caught.  She might bring a sight of trouble down on us.”

“Say, what’s the matter with me going out and eating a few?” asked Pringle.

“You stay here!  You talk too much with your mouth,” replied the sheriff.  “I’ll send in a snack for you and Bell.  Come on, boys.”

They filed out to the cook’s fire in the walled courtyard.

“George, dear,” said Pringle when the two were left alone, “is that right about the reward?  ’Cause I sure want to get in on it.”

“Damn likely.  You knew where Foy was.  You know where he is now.  Why didn’t you tell us, if you wanted in on the reward?”

“Why, George, I didn’t know there was any reward.  Besides, him and me split up as soon as we got clear of town.”

“You’re a damn liar!”

“That’s what the sheriff said.  Somebody must ‘a’ give me away,” complained John Wesley.  He rolled a cigarette and walked to the table.  “All the same, you’re making a mistake.  You hadn’t ought to roil me.  Just for that, soon as they’re all off on their man hunt, I’m goin’ to study up some scheme to get away.”

“I got a picture of you gettin’ away!”

“George,” said John Wesley, “you see that front door?  Well, that’s what we call in theatrical circles a practical door.  Along toward morning I’m going out through that practical door.  You’ll see!”