"That’s all right. Leave it to me. Your Uncle Fletch knows a thing or two. That paper never will be used as evidence against any of us."
"Why, it’s in old Gunn’s hands. How can——"
"Never mind that. Forget it. No matter what you hear, keep your faces closed, and you’ll be all right. Now, we had better break this meeting up, and you fellows trust in me, that’s all."
Neither Reid nor Wade seemed satisfied, but Zeb made them promise to keep still and wait, after which he hustled them out of his room.
When they were gone, he turned to Scudder and Watson.
"Those chaps are squealers," he said, in a disgusted way.
"But they’ll get us in a bad scrape if we don’t look out," said Uric, still fumbling at his chin with his fingers.
"It’s a desperate case," nodded Watson. "I’m sorry myself that we did it. We can’t back up our charges with proof."
"We might if those chaps who were here just now had backbone," said Zeb. "We could fake up a nice little story and stick to it till the cows came home."
"But they’ll never do that," from Scudder.