Jameson tried to explain.
“Shut up! We’re wasting time!” broke in Nabours, jerking the rope. “We ain’t got nine hunderd dollars; and if we had we wouldn’t give you nor no man a copper cent to ride this range ary way we like.
“What’ll we do with him, boys?” He turned again to his men. “Ef we let him go he may start something. Hyenuses runs in bunches. What’ll we do?”
“That’s a question!” scoffed Dalhart. Len Hersey again named the wagon tongue; but Taisie Lockhart raised a hand.
“No!” she called. “No! Wait!”
“We can’t wait, ma’am,” said Nabours. “We’re wasting time. The Red’s running full now and maybe raising every hour for all we know. We can’t wait here.”
“Then—tie him and leave him!” suddenly spoke the saddle Portia. “Leave him here—his friends may find him.”
“Aw, hell!” said a voice. It was that of Cinquo Centavos, the horse herd. Nabours turned to him.
“Sinker, go get a couple of hobbles.” The boy rode off.
“What are you going to do to me?” began Jameson. “I warn you——”