"
"It was like this," went on Bridge. "The gentleman who
owned the horse, together with some of his friends, had been
shooting at me and my friends. When it was all over there
was no one left to inform us who were the legal heirs of the
late owners of this and several other horses which were left
upon our hands, so I borrowed this one. The law would say,
doubtless, that I had stolen it; but I am perfectly willing to
return it to its rightful owners if someone will find them for
me."
"You been in a scrap?" asked Grayson. "Who with?"
"A party of Pesita's men," replied Bridge.
"When?"
"Yesterday."
"You see they are working pretty close," said Grayson, to
his employer, and then to Bridge: "Well, if you took that
cayuse from one of Pesita's bunch you can't call that stealin'.
Your room's in there, back of the office, an' you'll find some
clothes there that the last man forgot to take with him. You
ken have 'em, an' from the looks o' yourn you need 'em."
"Thank you," replied Bridge. "My clothes are a bit rusty. I
shall have to speak to James about them," and he passed
through into the little bedroom off the office, and closed the
door behind him.
"James?" grunted Grayson. "Who the devil does he mean
by James? I hain't seen but one of 'em.
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