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Updated: June 21, 2025
"I reckon some of Duff's crowd slipped out of the fight, got the two youngsters, and slipped away with them," Bodson answered. "Then it was Duff he was one of 'em," returned Jeff, with a strong conviction. "From what I've seen of Duff to-night he'd rather do a running trick than a fighting one." "It would take two to carry both youngsters away. Who was the other one?" Rafe wondered aloud.
Even now, after Duff and Ashby had sighted them, Moore and Bodson halted twice to light matches and examine the trail that their keen eyes had discovered as moving westward from the gully. "Now, I reckon we've got the general direction," muttered Rafe Bodson when, after having once more discovered the tracks he turned and got the general course. "We know the way to head."
"If it's for friends of ours," grimaced Rafe Bodson, "you needn't listen any longer. We haven't any friends in either crowd now." "Quiet, I tell you!" snarled Duff. No noise of moving automobiles came to the gambler's keen ears in the darkness of the night. "Ready," faintly whispered Duff, giving Ashby a slight nudge. "Shoot 'em?" whispered the mad hotel man. "Yes; you hit Jeff.
Then he added, with a sigh: "But I suppose that's only another lie another specimen of a gambler's honor." "Stand aside, Bodson! Moore, you get out of the way!" snarled the gambler, his anger again depriving him of all reason. "I'll have my way with these young hounds before we string 'em up." "Let me at 'em!" implored Ashby, fingering his shotgun nervously. "Get out of my way.
Hence it is not to be wondered at that Bodson and Moore went forward to be astonished by a sudden movement in the sand, followed by a hail of "Gentlemen, get your hands up, or take your medicine!" The command came in Jim Duff's tones. He was barely thirty feet away from the surprised pair, one of his revolvers leveled so to drop Bodson at a touch of the trigger.
With cries of anger, several of the men sprang toward Jeff, who had bared his sheath knife and was about to free Tom and Harry. "Here stop that, you traitors!" roared Duff, leaping forward. "I've four shots left, Jim," remarked Rafe Bodson calmly, as he ceased firing. "Call me names, if you think it wise." Like a flash Duff drew one of his own revolvers.
They wouldn't like the only references we could give, Jeff." "Oh, shore, we'll have to travel," agreed Moore. "That is, if the sheriff doesn't take up our tickets before we get started." "All this talk isn't showing us what became of Reade and Hazelton," remarked Rafe Bodson. "Let's go back under the trees and see if we can find what has become of Reade and Hazelton.
"Don't try to protect yourself by hiding behind the bodies of men who don't know any better than to follow your lead." Jim Duff didn't accept the challenge. Instead, he crouched behind two of his followers, taking deliberate aim with his revolver at Bodson. But he never fired that cowardly shot. Like a flash from the sky came an interruption that created panic among the assembled scoundrels.
I don't want to pepper anyone else." But Bodson and Moore, bad as they were some respects, stood their ground. "Are you going to let us at them?" insisted Duff, his voice now broken and harsh from anger. "Not for the purpose of bullying them!" insisted Rafe, without moving. "Jeff, you're with me, aren't you?" "Right by your side, pardner."
Before he had time to fire, however, three men threw themselves between Bodson and the gambler. "Stop talking gun play, Rafe," warned one of the three. "Act like a gentleman." "I've forgotten how to do that," Rafe remarked. "I've traveled with this outfit too long." "Put up your guns. Then we'll attend to this pair of youngsters." "My guns remain in my hands," Bodson declared coolly.
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