“So that was the game, was it?” said Jeff.
“No, it wasn't,” snapped Jim Duff.
“Shut up,” ordered Jeff unbelievingly. “Duff, we've seen enough of you to-night to know that an Apache has ten times as much honor as you have, and a rattlesnake has twenty times as much decency. You lying, miserable, white-livered, smooth-tongued, poisonous reptile in human form. If you open your mouth to say another word you'll have me so wild that I'll pull the trigger of this automatic before I intend to do so.”
“Thank goodness you had become conscious too, Harry!” breathed Tom fervently. “I don't believe I could have knocked both men over in time to prevent a killing. I managed to get my hands free just in time to get on the job.”
“I had known for some moments what was going on around me,” Hazelton replied. “But I was lying with my eyes closed, and keeping mighty quiet. I was trying to hear your breathing, so I could decide whether you had come to your senses, when all of a sudden you sat up and freed my hands. Ugh!” he added with disgust, as he reached up and slipped the remnant of rawhide noose from around his neck.
“What'll we do with this snake and, his weak-minded brother?” asked Jeff dryly. “Tie 'em up and ship 'em into Paloma?”
“Fire off your revolver two or three times,” suggested Tom, who had caught a faint, far away sound of an automobile. “That may bring a machine over here.”
“You shoot, Rafe,” urge Moore. “I'll want to keep my weapon handy for this crooked card-sharp.”
Rafe obligingly emptied one of his revolvers into the air. From a distance came the honk of an automobile horn, as though in answer to the signal shots. Soon the noise of an automobile engine became more distinct. Finally the body of a large car loomed up in the darkness. A few shouts brought the car to the spot.
“This you, Mr. Reade?” called the joy voice of Superintendent Hawkins. “And Hazelton, safe, also?”