“You’re even,” said he, stepping back a pace or two. “You have got more weapons than he has.”
I saw the point Coyote Bill was trying to get at, and in a second I had Henderson’s head covered with one of my revolvers.
“Hands up!” said I hotly; and his hands came up.
“Bill, I didn’t think that of you,” said Henderson, who was fairly beside himself with rage.
“You told me that all you wanted was to get the power in your hands,” said Bill. “Now you have it, and I don’t see why you don’t use it. Be quick!”
I kept my eyes fastened upon Henderson, and, fearing that Bill’s taunts might lead him to do something wrong, for which he would always be sorry,—for there was a good deal of derision in what Bill said, and it showed what a high estimation he had of Henderson’s courage,—I held my revolver in readiness for a shot, and stepped forward and took his gun from its holster and handed it to Bill. The latter took it with an expression of great disgust on his face, looked at it a moment, and sent it as far out on the prairie as his sinewy arm could throw it.
“I don’t see what your object is in shooting me, who haven’t done you any harm,” I said, addressing myself to Henderson, “but I tell you not to attempt anything with that rifle. If you do, I will tumble you off your saddle!”
“Henderson will not attempt to shoot us with that,” said Bill. “If he does he will have three of us to contend with, and I think that is rather more than he can manage. Now, Henderson, go for Austin as soon as you can get there.”
“And give up my share of those thirty thousand dollars?” exclaimed Henderson, his astonishment getting the better of his alarm. “Now, Bill, that isn’t right!”
Almost before Henderson had got through with these words of protest, Bill’s hand laid hold of his revolver, while with the other he pointed out the direction he was to follow. I noticed that Jack’s revolver came out also—he had been sitting in his saddle all this time—and rested across the horn, directly in range with Henderson’s person. He saw that everything was up with him, and without saying a word turned his horse and rode away; and I may add that was the last I ever saw of Henderson. We went to Austin a short time afterward, and, although we kept a bright lookout for him, not a thing did we see of him. Whatever became of him I don’t know.