Texas Smith pulled up to aid his employer, but only for an instant, as Coronado called, "Go on." The borderer now spurred after Thurstane, who had got a dozen rods the lead of him.

Coronado rapidly examined his saddle-bags and then his pockets without finding the cord or strap which he needed.

He swore a little at this, but not with any poignant emotion, for in the first place fighting was not a thing that he yearned for, and in the second place he hardly anticipated a combat.

The robbers, he felt certain, were only vagrant rancheros, or the cowardly Indians of some village, who would have neither the weapons nor the pluck to give battle.
But suddenly an alarming suspicion crossed his mind.

Would Texas Smith seize this chance to send a bullet through Thurstane's head from behind?
Knowing the cutthroat's recklessness and his almost insane thirst for blood, he feared that this might happen.