“Call it that if yuh like.”
“I am afraid I agree with Ace; whether it is fear or caution which keeps him away, he won’t come to-night,” the judge said heavily.
“He will come, because he said he would,” affirmed a girl’s voice. Snippets had entered the room in time to hear the last remarks.
Anderson laughed tolerantly. “That sounds like a schoolgirl’s admiration for Robin Hood.”
“Robin Hood—huh! Allen’s rep is made by fools, girls, and old men,” Ace snapped. “I’m tellin’ yuh he ain’t no good and he won’t come. And we’re wasting our time not havin’ a rider beatin’ it to Texas to get Cupid Dart, the gent I was tellin’ you of.”
His words held a word of hate. The other men looked at him curiously. Jim Hogg scratched his head. The judge looked questioningly at the others.
“I think Ace is right,” Bill Anderson said judiciously. “We have all heard of Cupid Dart. Why not send for him? Even if Allen does come, it is a question if we can trust him.”
“Trust him? Of course you can’t trust him! He’s a bushwhackin’ killer, who kills men by shootin’ them in the back. I know men who have seen him do it.” Ace’s face was pale with rage.
“Why do you hate him?” the girl asked quietly.
“Because you are a sorta cousin of mine, and I hate to think of you having truck with a man like him,” Ace replied bitterly.