"He—he led the whole business," put in Bluckburn. He began to think it time to clear himself. "I only acted under his orders."
"It's too late fer ye ter open yer mouth," was the way Ike Watson cut him short. "Go on, Slavin. Whar's Barnaby Winthrop? Straight, now, remember."
Thus admonished, Slavin told the location of the cave in which the old prospector was held, as well as he was able.
"I don't know the lay o' the land exactly, but I'm comin' purty nigh it."
"Would you know the spot if you were in the vicinity?" asked Allen, eagerly.
"I think I would."
"Then we must take him along," said the young ranchman to Ike Watson. "But what shall we do with Bluckburn?"
"He ought ter be lynched right now," was the old hunter's stern reply. During his days among the rough characters of the mountains he and his companions had had small use for jails and lockups. The law of the land, so called, was administered on the spot.
A long discussion followed, which ended in a determination to take Bluckburn back to Daddy Wampole's place. They would leave him there a prisoner, and then take Slavin along with them, that he might locate Barnaby Winthrop's place of confinement.
Bluckburn was secured on his horse's back, and Slavin was disarmed, and in less than half an hour the return to the crossroads hotel was begun.