“And ye sure give Mesquite a scare. Reckon he’s still goin’. So you aint no officer, th? You just come nosing in here on your own hook, eh? Well, you’ve sure played hell. I wonder how you can set there and eat and smoke and laugh, after wipin’ out three good men this morning! Aint you got no conscience? Don’t it mean nothin’ to you that ye’ve killed three men?”
Ramsay shrugged.
“It doesn’t worry you to bring in people from outside and cheat them or murder them, does it?” he retorted. “And it doesn’t worry anyone to wipe out a rattler. You fellows and desert rattlers are about in the same class.”
“And you’ll be in the same class with your brother when we get through with ye,” said Sidewinder acidly.
“He knows too much,” said Ximines in Spanish. “Kill him now, quickly.”
“You back down and rest your heels,” snapped Sidewinder. “I’m running this show. Now, Ramsay, you’re alone in this deal—you and Miss Gilman—”
“She’s not in it,” broke out Ramsay quickly, alarmed by the man’s look.
“Don’t ye lie to me! You and her have been carryin’ on together. Got to town about the same time, and been thick ever since. She fooled me at first, all right, but now I’m wide awake and ready to strike. You’ve earned your victuals. Now shut up.”
With this, Sidewinder turned to the three outlaws and briefly described Miss Gilman’s activities, while Ramsay listened in acute anxiety.
“All good things have an end,” he finished. “We’ve just about reached the end of our rope. The thing to do now is to bust up camp. Better get them women and the kid off right now, with hosses. Let ’em ride in to town, and José Garcia will take care of ’em until you’re ready to send for ’em. Then get busy with a running-iron and a knife, and we’ll go over them hosses on hand. Any that can’t be worked over, leave here. You’ll have a right good remuda, and you three fellers can run ’em up to Silver City. Emery, you know how to get there across the Salt Pans, don’t ye?”