“No killin’ if ye can help it. Shoot the hosses. Then make your get-away to town and wait for news. If I win I’ll join ye there to-night. If not, then beat it into Laredo County and lay low. Good luck to ye, boys!”
“Same to you!” they rejoined, and scattered out to take position.
Five men with him, besides their captive, Buck turned from the road and led the way toward the hills.
Old Jake Harper cursed luridly as he perceived the really admirable strategy that was under way, although its object was hidden from him. When the Circle Bar came up, they would be delayed appreciably by the four men. When at last left free to take the trail, they would naturally follow that left by the largest number of horses, leading toward their home ranch. And in the meantime Buck would be somewhere else.
“What’s the big idea, Buck?” asked Sandy Davitt, riding at the rancher’s stirrup. “Where we off for?”
“Git through the hills, hit the valley trail beyond, and lay up,” said Buck with a grin. “Sam Fisher and Arnold are bound to come that way from the Lazy S when they see the smoke, ain’t they?”
Sandy Davitt slapped his thigh with a loud guffaw.
“Whoop-ee! Buck, you sure wins the deal! And while we gathers in the sheriff o’ Pecos and his pal, the Circle Bar outfit is millin’ around tryin’ to find out what’s done happened, eh?”
“Somethin’ like that, Sandy,” and Buck grinned confidently.
Jake Harper fell silent from sheer desperation.