It was in such a mood that Slim stormed back along the trail, too angry to spare his feet as he walked over the cruel rocks.
A quiet voice brought him back from wild rage to a cool realization that he was in a tight spot.
“Put up your hands and don’t move!”
The words were softly spoken, hardly above a whisper but there was a ring of earnestness in them that brooked no meddling.
Slim opened his hands and his rifle clattered to the ground.
“Now raise your arms slowly. Don’t make a move for the gun in your holster. I’ll drop you without mercy if you do.”
Carefully Slim’s hands went higher until they were above his head. His mind worked rapidly. Could only one of the riflemen have escaped? Had the unwounded man waited for him to walk into a trap? Or was this the man who had been trapped in the canyon?
The questions raced through his mind. The mysterious letter from Bill Needham of the Cattlemen’s Association had certainly led him into a peck of trouble and he hadn’t reached the Creeping Shadows country.
The soft voice spoke again.
“Turn around now. Move slowly. Remember, I’ve got you covered.”