“Hell!” Post exclaimed angrily. “If you seen Injun smoke, why didn’t you tell me?”

“You were asleep. What was the sense of tellin’ you? We still had to come in deeper with the dinero, redskins or no.”

The Kid’s eyes suddenly widened at an unwelcome thought. “Hey, hold it, man. This here is Yaqui country, ain’t it?”

“Correct.”

As if he’d been bitten by a snake, the Kid jumped for the high rock. His eyes squinted, there was nothing sleepy about him now. In their time together, Kid Post and Clint Shiloh had mixed it with just about every breed of Indian living. And on their list of ‘Indians To Step Aside From,’ the Yaqui were right up there on top.

Several slow and uneventful minutes passed before Post spoke again.

“Still don’t see nothin’, Shi.”

“With Yaqui you mostly don’t until it’s too late.”