"Got any shells for it?" snapped Hawk.
"I guess so."
"I left the horse at the cabin to stand 'em off awhile. They'll lose a little time there. They'll come down the creek—can't come any other way. I'm going to wait for 'em in the timber."
"What for?"
"I'll finish with Doubleday and Van Horn, anyhow. Maybe I can with Stone."
"And they'll finish with you."
"After I get them three the rest are welcome to what's left of me. I've got to be moving."
"Hold on a minute, Abe." Laramie sat down on the side of his cot, his knees spread apart, his elbows resting on them, and his hands clasped as he leaned forward, head down, to think.
"Them fellows are riding every minute," Hawk reminded him grimly.
"Let's talk this thing over," persisted Laramie.