And as they disappeared a good deal of laughter, a good deal of forceful talk, came from the place which had swallowed them up. Then, after awhile, the three reappeared in the open, and with them came an old choreman, whose joints ached, and whose villainous temper had seriously suffered under the harsh bonds which had held him secure from interference with Scipio for so long. The men herded him out before them, quite heedless of his bitter vituperation and blasphemy. And when they had driven him forth Sunny Oak pointed out to him the retreating buckboard as it vanished over the far hillside. "Ther' they go, you miser'ble old son of a moose," he cried with a laugh. "Ther' they go. An' I guess when James gits around ag'in you'll likely pay a mighty fine reck'nin'. An' I'll sure say I won't be a heap sorry neither. You've give me a power o' trouble comin' along out here. I ain't had no sort o' rest fer hours an' hours, an' I hate folks that sets me busy." "You're a pizenous varmint, sure," added Sandy, feeling that Sunny must not be allowed all the talk. "An' your langwidge is that bad I'll need to git around a Bible-class ag'in to disinfect my ears." "You sure will," agreed Toby, with one of his fatuous grins. "I never see any feller who needed disinfectin' more." Then he turned upon the evil-faced choreman and added his morsel of admonition. "Say, old man, as you hope to git buried yourself when James gits around ag'in, I guess you best go an' dig that miser'ble cur o' yours under, 'fore he gits pollutin' the air o' this yer valley, same as you are at the moment. He's cost me a goodish scrap, but I don't grudge it him noways. Scrappin's an elegant pastime, sure--when you come out right end of it." After that, cowed but furious, the old man was allowed to depart, and the three guardians of Scipio's person deliberately returned to their charge. Their instructions were quite clear, even though they only partially understood the conditions making their work necessary. Scipio must be safeguarded. They were to form an invisible escort, clearing his road for him and making his journey safe. So they swung into the saddle and rode hot-foot on the trail of their unconscious charge. For the most part they rode silently. Already the journey had been long and tiresomely uneventful, and Sunny Oak particularly reveled in an impotent peevishness which held him intensely sulky. The widower, too, was feeling anything but amiable. What with his recent futile work on a claim which was the ridicule of the camp, and now the discomfort of a dreary journey, his feelings towards Wild Bill were none too cordial. Perhaps Toby was the most cheerful of the three. The matters of the Trust had been a pleasant break in the daily routine of dispossessing himself of remittances from his friends in the East. And the unusual effort made him feel good.