“Take it from me, you're right!” ejaculated Buell. “We jest missed him.
Herky, them tracks out there? Somebody's with this boy--who?”
“It's Jim Williams,” put in Dick Leslie, cool-voiced and threatening.
The little stillness that followed his words was broken by Buell.
“Naw! 'Twasn't Williams. You can't bluff this bunch, Leslie. By your own
words Williams is lookin' for us, an' if he's lookin' for anybody I know
he's lookin' for 'em. See!”
“Buell, the kid's fell in with old Bent, the b'ar hunter,” said Bill.
“Thet accounts fer the cub. Bent's allus got cubs, an' kittens, an'
sich. An' I'll tell you, he ain't no better friend of ourn than Jim
Williams.”
“I'd about as soon tackle Williams as Bent,” put in Bud.
Buell shook his fist. “What luck the kid has! But I'll get him, take it
from me! Now, what's best to do?”
“Buell, the game's going against you,” said Dick Leslie. “The
penitentiary is where you'll finish. You'd better let me loose. Old
Bent will find Jim Williams, and then you fellows will be up against it.
There's going to be somebody killed. The best thing for you to do is to
let me go and then cut out yourself.”
Buell breathed as heavily as a porpoise, and his footsteps pounded hard.
“Leslie, I'm seein' this out--understand? When Bud rode down to the mill
an' told me the kid had got away I made up my mind to ketch him an' shet
his mouth--one way or another. An' I'll do it. Take thet from me!”
“Bah!” sneered Dick. “You're sca'red into the middle of next week right
now.... Besides, if you do ketch Ken it won't do you any good-now!”
“What?”
But Dick shut up like a clam, and not another word could be gotten from
him. Buell fumed and stamped.
“Bud, you're the only one in this bunch of loggerheads thet has any
sense. What d'you say?”
“Quiet down an' wait here,” replied Bud. “Mebbe old Bent didn't hear
them shots of Herky's. He may come back. Let's wait awhile, an', if he
doesn't come, put Herky on the trail.”
“Good! Greaser, go out an' hide the hosses--drive them up the canyon.”
The Mexican shuffled out, and all the others settled down to quiet. I
heard some of them light their pipes. Bud leaned against the left of
the door, Buell sat on the other side, and beyond them I saw as much of
Herky as his boots. I knew him by his bow-legs.
The stillness that set in began to be hard on me'. When the men were
moving about and talking I had been so interested that my predicament
did not occupy my mind. But now, with those ruffians waiting silently
below, I was beset with a thousand fears. The very consciousness that I
must be quiet made it almost impossible. Then I became aware that my one
position cramped my arm and side. A million prickling needles were at
my elbow. A band as of steel tightened about my breast. I grew hot and
cold, and trembled. I knew the slightest move would be fatal, so I bent
all my mind to lying quiet as a stone.
Greaser came limping back into the cabin, and found a seat without any
one speaking. It was so still that I heard the silken rustle of paper as
he rolled a cigarette. Moments that seemed long as years passed, with my
muscles clamped as in a vise. If only I had lain down upon my back!
But there I was, half raised on my elbow, in a most awkward and
uncomfortable position. I tried not to mind the tingling in my arm,
but to think of Hiram, of Jim, of my mustang. But presently I could not
think of anything except the certainty that I would soon lose control of
my muscles and fall over.
The tingling changed to a painful vibration, and perspiration stung my
face. The strain became unbearable. All of a sudden something seemed
to break within me, and my muscles began to ripple and shake. I had no
power to stop it. More than that, the feeling was so terrible that I
knew I would welcome discovery as a relief.
“Sh-s-s-h!” whispered some one below.
I turned my eyes down to the peep-hole. Bud had moved over squarely into
the light of the door. He was bending over something. Then he extended
his hand, back uppermost, toward Buell. On the back of that broad brown
hand were pieces of leaf and bits of pine-needles. The trembling of
my body had shaken these from the brush on the rickety loft. More than
that, in the yellow bar of sunlight which streamed in at the door there
floated particles of dust.
Bud silently looked upward. There was a gleam in his black eyes, and his
mouth was agape. Buell's gaze followed Bud's, and his face grew curious,
intent, then fixed in a cunning, bold smile of satisfaction. He rose to
his feet.
“Come down out o' thet!” he ordered, harshly. “Come down!”
The sound of his voice stilled my trembling. I did not move nor breathe.
I saw Buell loom up hugely and Bud slowly rise. Herky-Jerky's boots
suddenly stood on end, and I knew then he had also risen. The silence
which followed Buell's order was so dense that it oppressed me.
“Come down!” repeated Buell.
There was no hint of doubt in his deep voice, but a cold certainty and a
brutal note. I had feared the man before, but that gave me new terror.
“Bud, climb the ladder,” commanded Buell.
“I ain't stuck on thet job,” rejoined Bud.
As his heavy boots thumped on the ladder they jarred the whole cabin. My
very desperation filled me with the fierceness of a cornered animal.
I caught sight of a short branch of the thickness of a man's arm,
and, grasping it, I slowly raised myself. When Bud's black, round head
appeared above the loft I hit it with all my might.
Bud bawled like a wounded animal, and fell to the ground with the noise
of a load of bricks. Through my peep-hole I saw him writhing, with both
hands pressed to his head. Then, lying flat on his back, he whipped out
his revolver. I saw the red spurt, the puff of smoke. Bang!
A bullet zipped through the brush, and tore a hole through the roof.
Bang! Bang!