Handing his boots out first, Larkin crawled headforemost out of the window and put his arms 183 around the shoulders of his rescuers, resting most of his weight upon their bent backs. Then they walked slowly away from the house and Bud’s feet and legs came out noiselessly. Still in the shadow of the walls they set him down and he drew on his boots.
It was not until then that Sims’s assistant made himself known.
“Hello, boss,” he said and took off his broad hat so that Larkin could see his face.
“Jimmie Welsh, by George!” whispered Bud joyfully, wringing his hand. “Did you bring many of the boys down with you?”
“Fifty,” replied the other.
“Bully for you! I don’t know what would become of me if it weren’t for you and Hard-winter.”
As they talked they were moving off toward the little river that wound past the Bar T house.
“Got a horse for me?” asked Bud.
“Yes,” said Sims, “over here in the bottoms where the rest of the boys are.”
“What do you plan to do now?”