This is Jim Hunter a-talkin'."
Two others pushed forward, taking off their sheets and masks. They
were Joe Longfield and Weston Burks.
"We are t'other two," said Longfield, dryly. "The Yanks killed off too
blame many o' that breed o' men fer us to begin to abuse one at this
late day. Ef Westerfelt's harmed, it will be over my dead body, an' I
bet I'm as hard to kill as a eel."
"Joe's a-talkin' fer me," said Burks, simply, and he put his hand on
his revolver.
"We've been too hasty," began Jim Hunter again. "We've 'lowed Toot to
inflame our minds agin this man, an' now I'll bet my hat he's innocent.
I'd resk a hoss on it."
"Thar's a gal in it, I'm a-thinkin'," opined Weston Burks, dryly.
"Men," cried the leader, "thar's a serious disagreement; we've always
listened to Jim Hunter; what must we do about the matter under dispute?"
"Send the man back to town," cried a voice in the edge of the crowd.
"He's the right sort to the marrow; I'll give 'im my paw an' wish 'im
well."
"That's the ticket!" chimed in the man with the rope, as he tossed it
over the horn of his saddle.
Pages:
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185