Hackett laughed.
“Why does he seem so mighty suspicious?” he asked. “We don’t bother him none.”
After talking with Bill a few moments, however, he turned to Abe and engaged him in conversation. He seemed careless and indifferent in his manner, and occasionally a few low words passed between them. After a time, Abe examined the water hole and announced that water was rising in it. Bill joined him, and they were on their knees beside the hole when a startling thing happened. Curry suddenly felt something thrust against the back of his head and heard a harsh voice commanding him to stand still or be shot in his tracks.
The voice was that of Spotted Dan, who held the muzzle of a revolver touching the deputy sheriff’s head. Curry knew on the instant that he was in for it. He knew better than to attempt the drawing of a weapon, although one hung ready in the holster at his side. Hackett, a pistol in his hand, appeared before the officer.
“We don’t care to shoot you up, Curry,” he said; “but we has to do it if you gits foolish. Put up your hands.”
“Whatever is this game?” exclaimed the startled man. “You arrays yourself agin’ the law. You gits yourself into a heap o’ trouble.”
“Put up your hands,” repeated Hackett sharply. “If you delays any, the gent behind you blows off the top of your head.”
Knowing the folly of refusing to obey, Curry lifted his empty hands. Hackett then removed the revolver from the officer’s holster. Instinctively Curry turned his eyes toward the water hole to see what was happening to his assistants there. He found them on their feet, but covered by drawn weapons of several men. He saw them also disarmed. Then one of the newcomers went among the captives and rapidly cut their bonds and set them free.
Texas Bland turned to Curry and laughed in his face.
“Pete,” he said, “I tells you a while ago that the rope is not made that hangs me.”