I walked slowly toward the ranch, feeling as if I had signed my own death warrant. There was no bluster about Johnson, he wasn’t that sort; but I knew that I not only would lose all chances of getting any money by going off riding with Mr. Davenport or Bob, but I would lose my chance of life. I would be shot down at once the first time I was caught alone, and, with all my practice at revolver drawing,—that is, pulling it at a moment’s warning,—I would not stand any show at all. These Texans are a little bit quicker than cats when it comes to drawing anything.
“Of all the impudence and scandalous things that I ever heard of, that ’Rastus Johnson is the beat,” I soliloquized as I walked toward the house, wondering what I should do when I got there. “A man comes out to steal a will from another man and pitches upon me, an entire stranger, because I have had ill luck with my cattle. Of course I have no intention of doing anything of the kind, but if something should happen to get this fellow into serious trouble—— By gracious! if this man was lynched he could take me with him.”
When I reached the ranch and mounted the steps that led to the porch I found Tom and Elam sitting there alone. Mr. Davenport had talked himself into a state of complete exhaustion and had gone in to take a nap, taking Bob with him as guard. In order to secure the quietness he wanted they had closed the door after them. I felt that now was my only chance. I saw by the look of surprise on Elam’s face that Tom had been hurriedly whispering to him what Mr. Davenport had told us.
“Where have you been?” enquired Tom. “We have been waiting half an hour for you.”
“Is it a fact that this Johnson has been working for Clifford Henderson?” exclaimed Elam. “If I was in Davenport’s place I would drive him off the ranch.”
“Sh—! Don’t talk so loud,” I admonished him. “I’ve been gone half an hour, and during that time I have heard some things that will astonish you. I have learned that Johnson is in Henderson’s employ, and that he wants me to act as his accomplice.”
I uttered these words in a whisper, thinking of the listening ones there might be on the other side of that door, and when I got through I tiptoed first to one end of the porch and then to the other to keep a lookout for Johnson. I was afraid of the “snooping” qualities that the fellow had developed, and if he had suddenly come around the corner of the house and caught me in the act of whispering to my friends I would not have been at all surprised at it. Tom and Elam were both amazed at what I had told them, and looked at one another with a blank expression on their faces.
“Tom, he wants me to steal that pocket-book Mr. Davenport showed us to-day,” I continued. “He says the will is in there and he can’t do anything without it. He says the property rightfully belongs to Henderson.”
“If I were in your place I would go right straight to Mr. Davenport with it,” said Tom, speaking in a whisper this time.
“And be shot for your trouble,” chimed in Elam, waking up to the emergencies of the case.