Читать книгу Frank Merriwell, Jr., in Arizona; or, Clearing a Rival's Record онлайн

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“Have you had anything to eat to-day?”

“This morning. At noon, I pulled up my belt a notch. To-night, if I’ve done what I’ve laid out to do, I’ll drop in at your camp for a little chuck. If I’m still shy on my plans, then I’ll shack over to Dolliver’s for grub pile.”

“I’ll get my horse and help you hunt for those fellows.”

“I feel the same as I did at the hotel yesterday,” demurred Blunt. “This is my job, and I want every one else to keep hands off.”

“Where are you going now?”

“I’m going it blind, but I know that if I comb the hills close enough Shoup and Lenning can’t dodge me.”

Blunt straightened in his saddle.

“If those fellows are really after me, Barzy,” said Frank, “you’ll do better to go with us to the camp, and put in your time waiting and keeping your eyes skinned.”

“I’ve got a different notion. You’re the one that’s got to keep his eyes skinned. See you later.”

With that, Blunt rattled his spurs and galloped on along the side of the ridge.

“I can see with half an eye what he’s up to,” declared Bleeker.