Where the arrest of the red pony had been effected, Dewing dismounted; below the trail, a dozen yards away, he fished Mr.Stanley Mitchell's spur from under a prickly pear; and returned in haste to Cobre.
After his supper Stanley strolled into Zurich's--The New York Store.
Unknown to him, at that hour brown Awguan was being driven back to his little home corral, resaddled--with Stanley's saddle--and led away into the dark.
Stanley exchanged greetings with the half-dozen customers who lingered at the counters, and demanded his mail.

Zurich handed out two fat letters with the postmark of Abingdon, New York.

While Stanley read them, Zurich called across the store to a purchaser of cigars and tobacco: "Hello, Wiley! Thought you had gone to Silverbell so wild and fierce." "Am a-going now," said Wiley, "soon as I throw a couple or three drinks under my belt." "Say, Bat, do you think you'll make the morning train?
It's going on nine now." "Surest thing you know! That span of mine can stroll along mighty peart.
Once I get out on the flat, we'll burn the breeze." "Come over here, then," said Zurich.

"I want you to take some cash and send it down to the bank by express--about eight hundred; and some checks besides.

I can't wait for the stage--it won't get there till to-morrow night.