“Well, it’s just this,” and the other lowered his voice to a hoarse whisper, as though not wanting to take any chances of the prisoners catching a single word of what he meant to say, “what are we agoing to do with that crowd when morning comes along? Somebody give me the answer, please.”
“Why, we don’t want to be bothered with the lot any longer than we can help,” Donald told him; “and that being the case we’ll decide on how we’d better turn ’em loose, minus their guns, of course.”
“Huh! that might mean you’d let ’em have their ponies, I reckon?” pursued Billie.
“Well, it’s considered a cruelty out here on the plains to take a man’s cayuse away from him,” said Donald; “and because they’re a pack of cattle rustlers hadn’t ought to make us covet their mounts, I take it. See here, what’s ailing you, Billie; you’ve sure got a bee in your bonnet right now? I hope you haven’t got an eye on one of their hosses, that buckskin p’raps, and think it’d about be in your class?”
Billie shook his head slowly.
“You wrong me, Donald, sure you do,” he observed, mournfully, as he gave his cousin a reproachful look; “I was only trying to do the thinking for the bunch for once. And I’ll tell you what occurred to me if you want me to.”
“Of course we do, old fellow, and we’ll thank you for doing it, too!” exclaimed Adrian, warmly.
“Same here, Billie!” echoed the other chum.
“All right,” Billie went on to say, still in that low, mysterious way; “then listen here, fellows. Now, it’s going to take us quite some time to drive this lot of steers and cows back to where they came from, I take it?”
“Sure thing,” remarked Adrian, encouragingly, when Billie stopped his explanation as though seeking confirmation of his statement.