“How did they make out?”
“Well, they ‘branched out’ the same as poor Zip; you see, our gang has been cut down pretty low, and when the rangers gather one in, there isn’t enough at hand to rally, shoot the officers, and rescue him.”
“What a blamed pity,” growled the trapper, leisurely puffing his pipe, “that thar warn’t enough of you just to clean things out atween El Paso and Santone.”
“No; I wouldn’t want it as good as that; but we ought to have enough to make it interesting, and give a fellow a chance to make an honest living. I had a pretty close call myself a couple of months ago.”
“How was that?”
“It was over in the Panhandle; Slidham and me were alone, and they run us hot, but we tumbled the leader out of his saddle, hit the man next to him, and before they could get things in shape, slipped off in the moonlight.”
“Isn’t Slidham a long time bringin’ that younker?” asked Eph, looking impatiently at the door.
“Yes—ah, here he is!”