He was driving another Mexican and Gyp Rainey out of the building with the nozzles of his guns.
“This is the crop,” he greeted me. “Leastways, I couldn’t find no more.”
“What are you doing here?” I asked Rainey.
But the hophead didn’t want to talk. He looked sullenly at the ground and made no reply.
“We’ll tie ’em up,” I decided, “and then look around.”
Milk River did most of the tying, having had more experience with ropes.
He trussed them back to back on the ground, and we went exploring.