If Jim Williams hits this trail, you ain't goin' to be
well enough to care about any old lumber steal."
"Jim hit the trail all right," went on Dick. "He's after Greaser. It'd go
hard with you if Jim happened to walk in now."
"I don't want to buck against Williams, that's certain," replied Stockton.
"I know his record. But I'll take a chance--anyway, till Buell knows. It's
his game."
Dick made no answer, and sat there eyeing his captors. There was little
talk after this. Bud threw a log on the fire. Stockton told the Mexican to
take a look at the horses. Greaser walked within twenty feet of where I
lay, and I held my breath while be passed. The others rolled in their
blankets. It was now so dark that I could not distinguish anything outside of
the campfire circle. But I heard Greaser's soft, shuffling footsteps as he
returned. Then his dark, slim figure made a shadow between me and the
light. He sat down before the fire and began to roll a cigarette. He did
not seem sleepy.
A daring scheme flashed into my mind. I would crawl into camp and free
Dick. Not only would I outwit the lumber thieves, but also make Dick think
well of me. What would Jim Williams say of a trick like that? The thought
of the Texan banished what little hesitation I felt. Glancing round the
bright circle, I made my plan; it was to crawl far back into the darkness,
go around to the other side of the camp, and then slip up behind Dick.
Pages:
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88