“Say, Carl, you couldn’t say anything to get me out of this scrape, could you?”
“No, I could not,” said the scout, somewhat astonished at the proposition. “You held up the stage, and that is contrary to law, and some of you shot the driver. You will have to suffer for that.”
“I used to herd cattle for your father,” said the squawman at a venture.
“Suppose you did? What do you suppose the general cares for that? You were caught in the act of robbing him, too.”
“Well, I have had a lesson, and I will never do it again. I will lead an honest life from this time on.”
“If you are talking that way simply to get me to say a word to General Miles you are making a big mistake,” said Carl. “Nothing that I could say would benefit you. You have violated the law, and consequently you have got to suffer for it, I tell you. Now here is your gun, blanket and butcher-knife. I will put them at the roots of this tree, and in five minutes after I am gone you can come and get them. The cartridges I shall keep.”
“But you will leave yourself without any weapon at all,” said the squawman.
“Don’t fool yourself. I have a revolver in each hand.”
“Why, how did you get them?”
“I have had them all the time. Now good-by, Harding, and let me tell you one thing: you might as well come up and stand your punishment. You have every law-abiding citizen in the United States down on you, and wherever you go, you are not safe from arrest.”