“That’s sayin’ a lot an’ sayin’ nothing,” retorted Larkin.
“You’ll know more when you try to collect that thousand.”
“All right,” responded Larkin, gathering up the reins as if to terminate the interview. “Where’s his place––if it ain’t a secret?”
“It’s over beyond that ridge,” said Huntington, pointing toward the west. “You go back about three miles the way you came, an’ there’s a branch road––”
“Hell!” snorted the cowboy whose arm hung limp at his side.
The three men exchanged glances. They were very weary; they had used almost the last of their powers to bring the outlaw this far; and they were plainly reluctant to undertake another tussle with the tireless animal, now ready, without doubt, to renew his struggle for liberty.
Huntington watched them narrowly.
“I’m all in!” grumbled Raley.
“You look it,” said Huntington. Then he added lightly: “Still, you ought to fetch up at Haig’s place before morning.”
Marion felt disgust and resentment rising in her at this misrepresentation of the distance to Haig’s ranch. Whatever Haig had done, this was cowardly and unfair. She looked eagerly at the other men, expecting to hear some one correct the gross exaggeration. But the faces were all blank, and no one spoke.