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Updated: June 19, 2025
"I guess that goes for all of us," rumbled Divver's throaty bass. Harding's footsteps could now be heard clambering up the bank. From below his companions shouted encouragement to him. "Ef they be in thar, yew let me take fust crack at 'em, by chowder," admonished Rafter's voice from below. "You'll all get a turn," came from Harding, in his lightest, most flippant tones.
"Is that you, Merrill? You see I know your name. That was a shabby trick you worked on us." "Shabby trick! Our lives were at stake," retorted Jack. "Hurry up thar, young feller," came from below in Rafter's voice; "by hemlock, I thought I hearn horses up ther canyon apiece." "All right; I'll be there just investigating," flung back Harding. "What do you want me to do, Merrill?"
"That was before you sent the order through fer the arms?" inquired Hickey. "Si, señor. But now, as you see, everything bids fair to go well, and " "By hemlock!" broke in Rafter's sharp voice, as he drew his pistol, "thar's two cusses hidin' in ther altar."
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