There was a volley of rapid curses from the other two.
“We'll get this cheap skate, Sliver,” suggested Ronicky. “We'll get this ghost and tie him up and take him back to Alder and make a show of him.”
“We will,” nodded Sliver. “Have you figured how?”
“Lie out here in the bush. He'll hunt around Alder all night and when the mornin' comes he'll leave and he'll come out this way. We'll be ready for him where the valley's narrow down there. They say his hoss and his dog is as bad as any two ordinary men. Well, that's three of them and here's three of us. It's an even break, eh?”
“Ronicky,” murmured Sliver, “I always knowed you had the brains. We'll take this gent and tame him, and run him back to Alder on the end of a rope.”
Gus Reeve whooped and waved his hat at the thought.
So the three reached the point where the shadowy walls of the valley narrowed, drew almost together. There they placed the horses in a hollow near the southern cliff, and they returned to take post. There was only one bridle path which wound through the gulch here, and the three concealed themselves behind a thicket of sagebrush to wait.
They laid their plan carefully. Each man was to have his peculiar duty: Gus Reeve, an adept with the rope, would wait until the black stallion was cantering
