“Huh! Ye know. We’ll work shares. I’ll toll yer man to ye for half the reward. Who d’ye want? How much’s he wuth?”
The blond man bit back a sudden desire to grin.
“Who are you?” he countered.
“Me? Snake Sanders.”
CHAPTER VI
THE KNOCK-OUT
Douglas deliberately swung the pack from his back and dropped it. Against it he leaned his gun, making sure, as he did so, that he had restored the safety-lock. As he faced Snake Sanders he caught the black eyes fixed again on the weapon, and in them glinted the same light of cupidity which had been there before.
“Right purty gun ye’ve got, stranger,” Snake admired. “Don’t look sensible, though, without no hammers onto it. What’s one o’ them guns cost?”
“Oh, several dollars. But what about this business of yours?”
“It’s like I tell ye.” Snake dragged his gaze away from the shotgun. “Do business with me an’ ye’ll git what ye want. Otherways ye git nothin’—but trouble.”
“So? And who’ll make the trouble? You?”