"As what; gun man?" demanded Ware calmly.
"You may find that out sometime."
"I'm not as easy as young Franklin was," said Ware, dropping his hand
carelessly to his side. "Don't make any mistakes when you get around to
your demonstration."
The man said nothing, but grinned, showing tobacco-stained, irregular
teeth beneath his straggling, red moustache.
After a moment's further conversation the little groups separated. Bob
rode on up the trail. Ware followed for perhaps ten feet, or until out
of sight behind the screen of willows that bordered the stream. Then,
without drawing rein, he dropped from his saddle. The horse, urged by a
gentle slap on the rump, followed in the narrow trail after Bob and the
pack animal. Ware slipped quietly through the willows until he had
gained a point commanding the other trail. Oldham and his companion were
riding peacefully. Satisfied, Ware returned, climbed rapidly until he
had caught up with his horse, and resumed his saddle. Bob had only that
moment noticed his absence.
"Look here, Bob," said Ware, "that fellow with Mr. Oldham is a man
called Saleratus Bill.
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