"The first thing you come to," the boy muttered, and grasped the bar for support.
CHAPTER XXI
Guns Crash
Out in the shadow of the building three men huddled close together, talking in whispers—Rhues, Matson, and the Mexican. Rhues had watched the progress of the poker game, waiting the chance he had tried to seek out ever since that day up at Avery's when he had been beaten down by the flailing fists of that tall young tenderfoot. He had seen VB start for the bar; he knew the hour had struck.
"We've got him!" he whispered. "He won't get away this time. They won't be no mistakes."
"S-s-s-s!" the Greaser warned.
"Aw, nobody'll ever know," Rhues scoffed in an undertone. "They'll never know that unless you spill. An' if you do—it'll mean three of us to th' gallows, unless—we're lynched first!"
Silence a moment, and they heard VB's voice raised. Then Rhues whispered his quick plans.
"Take it easy," he warned in conclusion. "Don't start nothin'. Let him git drunk; then he'll do th' startin' an' it'll be easy."