“I know what’s on your mind, LeBlanc. Ugh, I’d hate to have you for an enemy. I suppose you want to stick a knife in them and put them out of the way.”
“That would be safest. They know too much,” answered the halfbreed.
“Well, I have a better plan than that. You remember we wrote a letter to decoy them away and mentioned a ransom. What’s to prevent us from really getting one from old man Boone? We could stick him up for a big sum, and that would be clear profit aside from what the Carson people are paying us. King will keep them till we arrange things and then we could free them. After that, LeBlanc, you can do what you like; it will be out of my hands then. Now we’ll start for the lake. Will the boat be there at the usual time?” and he turned to the boss sawyer.
“Usual time,” laconically answered the man.
The door was thrown open, and a man walked into the room.
“So it’s the Carson people that are back of you this time, eh, Barrows? Guess I got here just in time!”
The men gasped in amazement, for there stood “Moose” Boone.
In the face of this crisis, the only one to keep his head was LeBlanc.
“Seize him,” he whispered sibilantly to his brother, in French.
Before Mr. Boone could make a move, he was grabbed by the powerful brothers. One of them clasped a hand over his mouth, and without a word, as though they had practiced for this very moment, Jean snatched a soiled bandanna from his pocket, and in another minute Mr. Boone was effectually gagged.