Douglas took a long breath. Uncle Eb swung to him.
“Wha’d ye do with him?” he hoarsely asked.
In guarded tones Douglas outlined the ruse which had saved Steve. As he finished he strode out to the side of the road and looked down it. The two man-hunters still were in sight, plodding along without a backward look.
“By mighty! Ye’ve got a head onto ye like a tack, son,” congratulated Eb, who had followed. “Right after I told them fellers to look into the hawg-pen I nigh got a shock—it come to me ye might of hid the boy into thar. Thank Gawd ye was here—I dunno what I’d done without ye——”
“All right. Now listen. You go back and get Steve under cover again quick. Those fellows may not be so well convinced as they seem to be, and they might double back after they’re out of sight. I’m going to follow them up now and see if they keep on going. I’ll be back.”
As he spoke, Bill and Ward faded from sight around a little curve. He strode away after them. Uncle Eb hastened to the barn.
Along the straight open stretch of road—perhaps forty yards from house to curve—Douglas traveled at a half-lope. As he went, a smile grew on his mouth, culminating in a chuckle.
“Hammerless Hampton, you’re an obstructionist, a conspirator against the majesty of the law, a disreputable character all around,” he told himself. “And sooner or later—probably sooner—you’re going to get yourself in bad. When Brooklyn Bill gets back to the river, for instance, he may query New York and learn that you’re disowned by the Whirl, and so on. And then what?”
Instead of growing serious at the thought of that possibility, however, he laughed all the more as he imagined Bill’s lurid language on learning that he had been duped. He was still laughing when he reached the bend. But there, in one instant, his face froze.
A few rods farther on stood the pair of officers. Their backs were toward him, their shoulders touched, their burly bodies blocked the narrow way. Beyond their legs showed a skirt.