I felt a creepy chill, and my eyesight grew dim.
"Who does this stuff belong to, anyhow?" Buell was saying. "An' what was
thet bear doin' in here?"
"He was roped up--hyar's the hitch," answered Bud.
"An' hyar's a rifle--Winchester--ain't been used much. Buell, it's thet
kid's!"
I heard rapid footsteps and smothered exclamations.
"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.
Pages:
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160