Slivers chuckled to himself, as he realized that escape was the last thought in Jim Allen’s mind. Allen himself laughed recklessly, as they crept down the street, hugging the shadows.
“There goes Bill Tucker,” Slivers whispered and pointed across the darkened street.
“We’ll lock him up for Jack,” Jim decided and swung about after the town marshal.
Bill Tucker was trying the outer door of the jail when something hard was poked against his ribs and some one cried warningly:
“Don’t move!”
After a moment Allen added: “All right, open the door.”
Too paralyzed from fear and surprise to think, Tucker staggered into the jail and stared open mouthed at Jim and Slivers. They disarmed him quickly. While Slivers was binding and gagging him, Allen spoke.
“Yuh skunk, I know why yuh brought Jack down here. Yuh was scared of Baldy Kane an’ wanted Jack to rub him out. I got the letter yuh wrote to the gent in Black Rock, an’ when I gives it to the miners, I reckon they’ll come an’ hang you an’ Steve Brandon. It’s darn lucky for you that your little double cross on Jack hasn’t worked, ’cause I’d sure enough string yuh up, if it had. I’m goin’ now an’ tell Jack somethin’. What yuh lookin’ at me like that for? Yuh got somethin’ on your mind?”
Jim Allen looked down at the trembling, pale-faced man. Then suddenly a fear flashed through his mind. Jack! Was he too late? Allen’s face changed, grew old. His eyes were smoldering sparks of yellow flame, as he stooped to stare into the marshal’s glassy ones.
“Yuh set a trap for Jack? Yuh skunk—tell me where he is! I’m tellin’ yuh true—if he’s downed this night—I’ll sure cut your throat.”