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Updated: June 3, 2025
If the outlaws could slip down the wash and out into the Crawling Stone Valley they had every chance of getting away in the night; and if the third man should be Barney Rebstock, Whispering Smith knew that Sinclair thought only of escape.
"Talk about my making a fire out of way-bills! When I saw you lay your hand on that man, I stopped breathing can't breathe just right yet," he muttered, pulling at his shirt collar. "Do you know why you didn't get killed?" "Why, no, Bill, not exactly," confessed Bucks in embarrassment. "Because Levake was out of cartridges. I heard him tell Rebstock so when they walked past me."
Seagrue stumbled, doubled on his knees, and staggering plunged loosely forward on the sand. Whispering Smith threw his fire toward the bowlder behind which Sinclair and Barney Rebstock had disappeared. Suddenly he realized that the bullets from the point were not coming his way. He was aware of a second rifle-duel above the bend.
"This is all right." "How was the walking last night?" asked Scott, passing the fugitive a big plate of bread. Rebstock lifted his eyes from his plate for the briefest kind of a moment. "The eh walking? I don't know what you mean, captain. I slept here last night." Scott looked under the table at his victim's boots. "John," he asked without a smile, "do you ever walk in your sleep?"
Rebstock, driven to desperation, held council after council to determine what to do. Sorties were discussed, ambushes considered, and a pitched battle was planned. But, while ideas were plentiful, no one aspired to lead an attack on Whispering Smith.
I'll make Williams Cache so wild that a timber-wolf can't follow his own trail through it. You'll break with me, will you, Rebstock? Then wind up your bank account; before I finish with you I'll put you in stripes and feed buzzards off your table." Rebstock's face was apoplectic. He choked with a torrent of oaths. Whispering Smith, paying no attention, walked out to where Kennedy was waiting.
He is a jay with a gun, and you may tell him I said so; do you hear? Tell him to come out if he wants me to demonstrate it. He has got everybody, including you, scared to death. Now, I say, don't be silly. I want Du Sang." Rebstock rose to his feet solemnly and pointed his finger at Whispering Smith. "Whispering Smith, you know me " "I know you for a fat rascal." "That's all right.
Riding circumspectly in and about the entrance to the Cache, the party waited an hour for an answer. When the answer came, it was unsatisfactory. Rebstock declined to appear upon so trivial a matter, and Whispering Smith refused to specify a further grievance.
Rebstock, at the door, refused to let the sinking man be brought into the house. He cursed Du Sang as the cause of all the trouble. But Du Sang cursed him with usury, and, while Whispering Smith listened, told Rebstock with bitter oaths that if he had given the boy Barney anything but a scrub horse they never would have been trailed.
Wickwire, worming his way down the stream, had uncovered Sinclair and young Rebstock from behind. A yell between the shots rang across the wash, and the cringing figure of a man ran out toward Whispering Smith with his hands high in the air, and pitched headlong on the ground. It was the skulker, Barney Rebstock, driven out by Wickwire's fire. The, shooting ceased.
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