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Updated: May 29, 2025
He spoke to the cowboys from the ranch, and on the left the young fellow Karg, with the broken nose, black-eyed and alert, looked the men over in front of him and nodded to Dancing. Du Sang and his companions wore short-armed shirts; rifles were slung at their pommels, and revolvers stuck in their hip-scabbards.
You heard me, didn't you?" demanded Stormy angrily. "We are going to string these damned critters up right here in the draw on the first tree." Whispering Smith drew a pocket-knife and walked to Flat Nose, slit the rope around his neck, pushed him out of the circle, and stood in front of him. "You can't play horse with my prisoners," he said curtly. "Get over here, Karg.
Smith called for water, and from a canteen drenched the pallid forehead, talking softly meanwhile; but his efforts to restore consciousness were unavailing. He turned to where two of the cowboys had dragged Karg to the ground and three others had their old companion Seagrue in hand. While two held huge revolvers within six inches of his head, the third was adjusting a rope-knot under his ear.
He threw his bullets as best he could first over one shoulder and then over the other, and used the last cartridge in his revolver with Du Sang, Seagrue, and Karg shooting at him every time they could fire without hitting one another. It was not the first time the Williams Cache gang had sworn to get him and had worked together to do it, but for the first time it looked as if they might do it.
Karg, Sinclair's crew foreman, came running over to him from a pile of merchandise that had been set off the right of way on the wagon-road for loot. "That's the superintendent's car coming, ain't it, Murray?" he cried, looking across the creek at the approaching train. "What of it?" returned Sinclair. "Why, we're just loading the team."
With Whispering Smith and Seagrue supporting Du Sang in the saddle and Karg leading the horse, the cavalcade moved slowly down to the creek, where a tiny stream purled among the rocks. The water revived the injured man for a moment; he had even strength enough, with some help, to ride again; and, moving in the same halting order, they took him to Rebstock's cabin.
There's a chance yet for you to get them out of serious trouble if you think as much of them as they do of you. Will you advise them to go back to work all except Karg?" Sinclair glared in high humor. "Oh, I couldn't do that! I'm discharged!" he protested, bowing low. "I don't want to be over-hasty," returned McCloud.
It did not escape Whispering Smith's notice that the mettlesome horses ridden by the outlaws were continually working around to the right of his party. He spoke amiably to Karg: "If you can't manage that horse, Karg, I can. Play fair. It looks to me as if you and Du Sang were getting ready to run for it, and leave George Seagrue to shoot his way through alone."
"Come, Seagrue." "Don't go over there. He'll get you if you do," cried Gorman. "Let us see about that. Seagrue, you and Karg walk ahead. Don't duck or run, either of you. Go on." Just over the brow of the hill near which the fight had taken place, a man lay below a ledge of granite.
He had some cronies with him from among his up-country following, and was introducing his new bridge foreman, Karg, afterward known as Flat Nose, and George Seagrue, the Montana cowboy. Sinclair fraternized that day with the Williams Cache men, and it was remarked even then that though a railroad man he appeared somewhat outside the railroad circle.
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