After eating supper prepared around the little fires Larkin saw the rustlers all gather into a circle and start drawing lots. He shivered a little at the thought that this was his execution party being made up.
Four men had been designated as the number to see Larkin off on his long journey, and when at last the drawing was finished it was found that Joe Parker, the masked rider, and two others had been selected.
As darkness drew on Parker began to lose his patience with Bud.
“Look-a-here, Larkin,” he drawled, “I don’t love no sheepmen, noways, an’ I never did, but you ain’t no ordinary ’walker’ an’ I ain’t ashamed to talk with y’u. Now the boys want to meet y’u half-way on this business, an’ you won’t do it. All you got to say is that you won’t appear agin any of us in any court, an’ won’t ever say anythin’ agin any of us. Now what in blazes you’re actin’ like a mule balkin’ at a shadder for, I dunno. Be sensible.”
But to all such entreaties Larkin remained unmoved.
“If you hang me,” he said, “you’ll only hang 102 yourselves, for all the sheepmen in Wyoming as well as the men from my own ranch will come down here, join with the cattlemen, and clean you fellows out. And if my Basque herders start in on you don’t imagine you will have the luxury of hanging. They’ll take their skinning knives and work from the neck down. No, I’d advise you to let me go and take your chances rather than kill me and wait.”
Such talk as this made a great impression on some of the rustlers and again opened up the subject of letting Larkin off. But the majority held firm and the sentence stood.
It was perhaps eight o’clock when the party of four approached Larkin and roused him up. This time his hands were bound behind his back and he noticed that the masked rustler was fastening them tightly but with a rotten rawhide. This peculiar circumstance caused a wild thrill to flash all through Larkin’s being. Perhaps, after all, here was the weak link in the rustler’s chain. The surmise became a certainty when the man, unobserved by his companions, sawed Bud’s arms back and forth, showing him the quickest and easiest way to work them loose.
Then came the greatest surprise of all. The man, who had spoken no word the whole time, 103 thrust a heavy .45 revolver into his trouser-pocket. To permit this being done the eight-inch barrel had been sawed off five inches short, ruining the gun for ordinary use, but making it particularly handy and light for close work.
This action convinced Larkin that the man in the mask was not only willing that he should escape, but was actually determined that the event should occur. He also knew that he could count on the support of this ally in the final moment when the four men must fight it out two and two.