We'll wave that." Injun grunted again and looked doubtful.

"Me get 'im back ?" he asked.
Injun didn't care any less for that shirt than he did for his pinto or his rifle--and he cared more for it than for his interest in the gold mine.
"Sure, you'll get it back," said Whitey, and without a word Injun took off the shirt and handed it to Whitey.
The boys gazed anxiously toward the west.

Whitey thought of the three armed men, who now probably had handkerchiefs tied over their faces, and were lying in wait in the gully.

Then of the oncoming train, with its unsuspecting passengers, and in the express car the bags of ore that were said to assay forty thousand dollars a ton.

It wouldn't take much of _that_ to make it worth while for the bandits to hold up the shipment.
Although the mist was getting thicker, it seemed singular that the train did not appear.