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Updated: May 13, 2025
They washed his wounds and one of the men set out toward Concho, to telephone to Enright for a doctor. The rest grouped around the stove and talked in low tones, waiting for daylight. "Chances are the kid went south," said Houck, half to himself. "How about young White?" queried a cowboy. "I dunno. Either he rode with Pete Annersley or he's back at the Concho. Daylight'll tell."
"Yep," Bettles retorted, "an' Daylight'll do the second thousand back again on end in thirty days more, and I got five hundred dollars that says so, and damn the blizzards." To emphasize his remarks, he pulled out a gold-sack the size of a bologna sausage and thumped it down on the bar. Doc Watson thumped his own sack alongside. "Hold on!" Daylight cried. "Bettles's right, and I want in on this.
Sharks might have him for all I should care. In he'd go. Hookey Walker, how my head do ache all round!" "I'm very sorry, Tom Fillot." "Which I knows you are, sir; and it ain't the first trouble as we two's been in together, so cheer up, sir. Daylight'll come some time, and then we'll heave to and repair damages." Just then there was a low groan from forward.
Take the wheel and steer as I signal from under my coat with this electric torch, like this: one long, means put your helm up a point, two long means two points; but a short flash means down a point, two short down two points. D'you understand, sir? We've got to keep close to her, or daylight'll find her gone!
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