Some covert he must have, so as to be near his victims. Nothing else
could explain the ease with which he kept on their track. They would
take the trail, and Jim Boone, no longer agile enough to be effective
on the trail, would guard the house and the body of Gandil in it.
There was little danger that even McGurk would try to rush a hostile
house, but they took no chances. The guns of Jim Boone were given a
thorough overhauling, and he wore as usual at his belt the
heavy-handled hunting knife, a deadly weapon in a hand-to-hand fight.
Thus equipped, they left him and took the trail.
They had not ridden a hundred yards when a whistle followed them, the
familiar whistle of the gang. They reined short and saw big Dick
Wilbur riding his bay after them, but at some distance he halted and
shouted: "Pierre!"
"He's come back to us!" cried Jack.
"No. It's only some message."
"Do you know?"
"Yes. Stay here. This is for me alone."
And he rode back to Wilbur, who swung his horse close alongside.
However hard he had followed in the pursuit of happiness, his face was
drawn with lines of age and his eyes circled with shadows.
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