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Updated: May 19, 2025
"For half a cent I'd gun you here and now like you did George." Sanders looked at him steadily, his hands hanging loosely by his sides. "I wouldn't try that, Dug," warned Hart. "Dave ain't armed, but I am. My hand's on my six-shooter right this minute. Don't make a mistake." The ex-foreman glared at him. Doble was a strong, reckless devil of a fellow who feared neither God nor man.
The powerful ex-foreman leaped, upon him, bearing the boy to the floor and holding him there helpless. "You little sneak, I've waited for this time!" snarled Owen, hoarsely. "But now " Josh rolled the boy over, yanked a pair of steel handcuffs from a rear pocket, and quickly, despite Benson's struggles snapped them onto the Submarine boy's wrists.
It didn't take that villain an instant to decide on flight. Bending low, the black man ran off with frantic speed. Dick took a step forward -only one, for Evarts furiously gripped at one of the young army officer's ankles, bringing him down to his knees. "Hang you, you hound!" ground out Tom, in a rage, as he threw himself athwart of the ex-foreman.
Is that it?" flushed the ex-foreman of the Lazy S M. "I don't know. It might be Clanton you're double-crossin', or it might be me," said the sheriff with cynical insolence. "But if I'm the bird you've made a poor choice. In case we're ambushed, you'll be in nice, easy reach of my gun." "Do I look like a fool?" snapped Sanders. "I'm out for the dough.
"What was that, Tar?" Evarts demanded. "W'at yo' talkin' 'bout?" "I heard a noise, and it was right over there," replied Evarts, pointing to where Tom and Dick lay hidden. "I didn't heah nuffin'." "I did, I tell you, and it will have to be looked into," insisted the ex-foreman, drawing his automatic revolver. "Go ahaid, den," encouraged Sambo, also drawing his weapon.
Dan Jaggers again turned his attention to his overcome uncle, kneeling beside the ex-foreman and watching his face closely. And then a strange thing happened, or so it would have seemed, had Dan Jaggers possessed eyes in the back of his head. For Jack Benson likewise his chum had striven many times through the night to free their wrists of the cords that bound them.
He climbed the fence, close to the gate. An instant later Josh Owen darted out. As he passed, Eph, with a fine eye, measured the time, and dropped fairly a-straddle of the fleeing one's shoulders. "Whoa, you big draft-horse!" chuckled Eph, holding on to Owen's head for grim life. Under the weight and the unexpected shock the ex-foreman sank to the sidewalk.
As sheriff of Washington County it had been his duty to accept any aid that might come from the treachery of Sanders; but as a friend of Jim Clanton he did not want to win over him by using such weapons. "Tickled to death, ain't you?" snapped the ex-foreman sourly. "Looks to me like you didn't want to make this arrest, Mr. Sheriff.
"To-day," went on the ex-foreman stubbornly. "Big, raw-boned guy, hook nose, leather face, never took no prize as a lady's man, a wildcat in a rough-house, an' sudden death on the draw," extemporized the rustler, presumably from his conception of the reward poster. "I'll lie in the chaparral till night an' ride in after dark." With the impulsiveness of his kind, Shorty fell in with the idea.
No fire had been in evidence when they left the camping-ground, and he was sure he had stamped out the one that had cooked the biscuits. Yet that stringy gray film certainly looked like smoke. He hung in the wind, half of a mind to go back and make sure. Fire in the chaparral now might do untold damage. Shorty looked at Doble. "If tha's fire, Dug " "It ain't. No chance," snapped the ex-foreman.
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