“Then she reached Phœnix three hours since, an’ prob’ly hes gone ter ther hotel. Yore cue, Golightly, is ter mosey back ter ther Three-ply, an’ report what’s happened. Someway, I don’t like ther looks o’ things. This underhand work may p’int ter some big villainy er other, an’ McGowan ort ter be informed o’ et as soon as possible.” “Oi do be sizin’ av ut up in th’ same way, Nomad; but it’s severeal moiles back t’ th’ Three-ply, an’ Oi’ll be some toime coverin’ th’ ground on foot.” “Ye’ll not kiver the ground on foot, Golightly, fer I’m goin’ ter give ye a lift. I’ll erbout-face an’ make front on thet Three-ply camp, so’st ye kin give McGowan ther nub o’ this diffikilty in short order. Climb up behind me.” Nomad kicked his foot out of one of the stirrups, and Golightly was just mounting, when a clatter of hoofs reached their ears from southward. The trapper hoisted himself in his saddle and looked across the tops of the bushes toward the gulch opening at the south side of the basin. “Waugh!” he cried, startled; “thar comes er gal on er white pinto, slashing erlong ter beat four of er kind, with two handy boys in masks in hot persoot! Take er look, Golightly! Is thet Annie McGowan?” “Annie! Jest from ’Frisco in that rig? Niver! That’s Dell, av th’ Double D Ranch--a fri’nd av Annie McGowan’s.” “Whoever she is, Golightly, she needs us, an’ we’ll cut her out o’ thet bunch in er couple er jerks. Hang on, kase I’m goin’ ter plow through ther chaparral at top speed.” Pointing straight for the wagon-trail, the old trapper made quick use of his spurs, and the double-burdened horse crashed away on the jump. By the time Nomad and Golightly had reached the wagon-trail, Dell of the Double D was well to the north of the basin. The old trapper and the Irishman thus came out of the scrub between her and the two pursuing men. Facing about in the trail, old Nomad unloosened “Saucy Susan” and “Scoldin’ Sairy”--as he called his forty-fours--and the result, as he afterward expressed it, was “shore comical.” The masked pursuers, evidently, were not expecting interference, and the sudden materializing of the trapper and the Irishman from the bushes was in the nature of a disagreeable surprise. Although their faces were masked, it could easily be seen that they were ruffians of the border brand--the sort who can be very brave when there are two of them in pursuit of a woman, but immediately experience panic when the odds are more nearly equal. The bullets fired by the trapper went into the air, and the horses of the pursuers were stopped so suddenly that the men on their backs almost went over their heads. Frantically the two ruffians whirled about and went slashing along on the back trail, plying whip and spur for all they were worth. To follow them was the last thing Nomad would consider, with his own horse so heavily burdened.