Part 37 (2/2)
”All right, I'm ready; but it is pretty late.”
”Makes no difference. We'll wake them up if they are in bed. I want to see Cavanagh, who keeps the store. I have one or two questions to ask him.”
Without saying anything to the others as to their intention, the two quietly saddled their ponies and rode off. The foreman made arrangements to have others take their trick, after which they headed across the mesa toward the place where Tad had whipped the mountain boy.
Though the night, like the one that had preceded it, was intensely dark, Luke rode on with perfect confidence, never for one instant hesitating over the course.
Ned did not know that they had reached the little village until the foreman told him.
”We're here,” he said quietly.
”Where's the town?”
”In it now.”
”I don't see it, if we are.”
”You hold my horse. I'll wake up Cavanagh,” announced the foreman, dismounting and tossing the reins to his companion.
Luke thundered on the front door of the store, above which the owner had his quarters. After an interval, during which the foreman had pounded insistently with the b.u.t.t of his revolver, an upper window opened and a voice demanded to know what was wanted.
”Come down here and I'll tell you.”
”Who are you? What do you mean prowling around this time of the night?”
”I'm Luke Larue, of the Simms's outfit, and I want to see you.”
”Oh, h.e.l.lo, Luke. Thought there was something familiar about your voice. I'll be down in a minute. Anybody with you?” ”Yes, friend. Hurry up.” Cavanagh opened the front door, peering out suspiciously before he permitted his caller to enter.
”Wait a minute. I want to call my friend in. Ned, tether the ponies and come along.”
After the lad had joined them, the two ranchers entered the store, the proprietor taking them to the back of the store and lighting a lantern, which he placed behind a cracker barrel, so that the light might not be observed from the outside.
”Now, what is it?” he demanded. Luke told him briefly of the battle with the cowboys, of which Cavanagh had already heard. Then he related the story of the mysterious disappearance of the two boys.
”What do you want of me?” asked the storekeeper, when the story had been finished.
”To know whether you had heard any of the boys say anything that might lead you to believe they knew anything about the matter?”
”No,” answered Cavanagh after a moment's thought. ”Hain't heard a word. Don't believe they know anything about it. They'd a said something if they'd heard of it.”
”Don't you know anything about the boys yourself?”
”No, don't know nothing about them.”
”Sure?”
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