“I won’t dispute the statement, McGowan, although it seems to me they would be smart enough to look after their own safety. After the way they were balked in that attempted robbery, they must know that this section of the country isn’t very healthful for them. I don’t think you need to worry, McGowan.” “I’m not worrying about myself. I’ve looked out for Number One so long that I feel perfectly qualified to do it successfully. Nevertheless, I have a feeling--a vague and oppressive premonition, notion, call it what you will--that something is going wrong. That’s the reason I asked you to delay your departure from the mine last night. However, I don’t suppose I can reasonably insist on your remaining here much longer.” “My old pard has been gone for several hours, McGowan, and Cayuse and I ought to be following him before long. He had business of some sort to attend to in Phœnix, and because of that he left in advance of us.” “At least, Buffalo Bill, you can wait until Golightly gets back with my daughter. They ought to have got here some time ago, but I suppose the train was late, and that is what is delaying them.” “Oh, well, if you desire it, Cayuse and I will wait until Golightly gets here with your daughter.” The king of scouts and McGowan sat in the shade in front of the adobe office building. McGowan was nervous. This was his natural temperament. The scout, in judging of his present state of mind, remembered how he had had three dreams concerning the bullion robberies, and how those dreams had come true--at least partially. “You’re fretting too much over those robberies, McGowan,” admonished the scout. “Forget them. A man ought to teach himself to forget the things that wear on his nerves.” “It isn’t the trouble here that wears on my nerves, Buffalo Bill; it’s the fact that Bernritter has proved himself a scoundrel; and the fact that Annie must be told of his duplicity when she gets here. I don’t know how the girl will take it. Certainly it will be a cruel blow for her, and one that will strike her like a bolt from the blue.” “When she learns how unworthy Bernritter was of her regard,” said the scout reassuringly, “she will consider herself fortunate in escaping an alliance with such a man. She has reason to congratulate herself, and I believe she will look at it in that way.” For the dozenth time McGowan got up, walked to the end of the office, and looked off along the Black Cañon trail in the direction along which his daughter and Golightly would come on their way from Phœnix. But still his anxious eyes failed to see anything of the star-faced cayuses and the buckboard. He turned back to Buffalo Bill, shaking his head forebodingly. “Faith,” he remarked, with a strained laugh, “I don’t know what’s the matter with me, but I’m all on edge. If you ever had premonitions----”