Buell was superbly mounted on a sleek bay, and he looked very much the same
jovial fellow I had met on the train. He grinned at the disfigured men.
"Take it from me, you fellers wouldn't look any worse bunged up if you'd
been jolted by the sawlogs in my mill."
"We can't stand here to crack jokes," said Stockton, sharply. "Some ranger
might see us. Now what?"
"You ketched the kid in time. That's all I wanted. Take him an' Leslie up in
one of the canyons an' keep them there till further orders. You needn't
stay, Stockton, after you get them in a safe place. An' you can send up
grub."
Then he turned to me.
"You'll not be hurt if--"
"Don't you speak to me!" I burst out. It was on my lips to tell him of the
letter to Washington, but somehow I kept silent.
"Leslie," went on Buell, "I'll overlook your hittin' me an' let you go if
you'll give me your word to keep mum about this."
Dick did not speak, but looked at the lumberman with a dark gleam in his
eyes.
"There's one thing, Buell," said Stockton. "Jim Williams is wise. You've got
to look out for him."
Buell's ruddy face blanched. Then, without another word, he waved his hand
toward the slope, and, wheeling his horse, galloped down the trail.
IX. TAKEN INTO THE MOUNTAINS
We climbed to another level bench where we branched off the trail.
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