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.
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