“You'll need to go some!” flared Keith, over his shoulder.
“I expect t' go some,” retorted the man. “A fellow with three sheriff's posses campin' on his trail ain't apt t' loiter none.”
“Oh!” Beatrice sat down and stared. “Then you must be—”
“Yep,” the fellow laughed recklessly. “You ca, tell your maw yuh met up with Kelly, the darin' train-robber. I wouldn't be s'prised if she close herded yuh fer a spell till her scare wears off. Bu I've hung around these parts long enough. I fooled them sheriffs a-plenty, stayin' here. Gee! you'r' swift—I don't think!” This last sentence was directed at Keith, who was putting a snail to shame, and making it appear he was in a hurry.
“Git a move on!” commanded Kelly, threatening with his eyes.
Keith wisely made no reply—nor did he show any symptoms of haste, despite the menacing tone Slowly he pulled his saddle off Redcloud, and carefully he placed it upon the ground. When a fellow lives in his saddle, almost, he comes to think a great deal of it, and he is reluctant under any circumstances, to surrender it to another; to have a man deliberately confiscate it with the authority which lies in a lump of lead the size of a child thumb is not pleasant.
Through Keith's brain flashed a dozen impracticable plans, and one that offered a slender—very slender—chance of success. If he could get a little closer! He moved over beside Rex an unbuckling the cinch of Beatrice's saddle, pulled it sullenly off.
“Now, put your saddle on that there Rex horse, and cinch it tight!”
Keith picked up the saddle—his saddle, and threw it across Rex's back, raging inwardly at his helplessness. To lose his saddle worse, to let Beatrice lose her horse. Lord! a pretty figure he must cut in her eyes!
“Dry weather we're havin',” Kelly remarked politely to Beatrice; without, however, looking in her direction. “Prairie fires are gittin' t' be the regular thing, I notice.”