“The skunk!” Hobe growled when Kent told him what was happening. “I wouldn’t blame the boys if they did drill him. You know how they feel toward him. Better not say anythin’ to them.”
It took the Basque more than an hour to get to the top. He made his plans as he moved, and they were admirable. What Charlie Paul would do was his one worry.
Molly was the first to become aware of Madeiras’ presence. He was twenty-five yards above the mine at the time, wriggling along on his stomach. The girl could not move for a second, and as she stood dumfounded she saw Tony roll a small bit of rock in Johnny’s direction. It caught the boy’s attention about the same instant that he saw the girl’s signals. Charlie Paul had swung his rifle around so that it covered the Basque. Johnny knocked it down.
“Don’t shoot,” he warned. “The Basque’s all right.”
“All right?” Molly questioned. “Didn’t he turn his back on you?”
“You don’t understand. He went to the ranch on my say-so.”
With his hand the boy beckoned to Madeiras to come down. “Keep low when you cross the tailin’s,” Johnny told him. “They’ll git you from below if you ain’t careful.”
The boy thought, of course, that Tony had stolen away from Kent’s camp to make his stand with the three of them. He knew he would have done the same thing had the tables been turned.
Imagine his surprise when he saw the Basque kick the Indian’s rifle over the edge of the dump and heard himself ordered to throw up his hands.
The order was heard down below. Men were watching. The Basque made no effort to keep out of sight.