He gazed
down and evidently was quick to take in the facts.
Slone had meant to kill this man without even a word, yet now when the moment
had come a feeling almost of sickness clouded his resolve. But he leveled the
rifle.
"I got it on you," he called.
"Reckon you hev. But see hyar--"
"I can hit you anywhere."
"Wal, I'll take yer word fer thet."
"All right. Now talk fast. . . . Are you one of Cordts's gang?"
"Sure."
"Why are you alone?"
"We split down hyar."
"Did you know I was on this trail?"
"Nope. I didn't sure, or you'd never ketched me, red hoss or no."
"Who were you trailin'?"
"Ole Creech an' the girl he kidnapped."
Slone felt the leap of his blood and the jerk it gave the rifle as his tense
finger trembled on the trigger.
"Girl. . . . What girl?" he called, hoarsely.
"Bostil's girl."
"Why did Cordts split on the trail?"
"He an' Hutch went round fer some more of the gang, an' to head off Joel
Creech when he comes in with Bostil's hosses."
Slone was amazed to find how the horse thieves had calculated; yet, on second
thought, the situation, once the Creeches had been recognized, appeared simple
enough.
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