“I’ll take care of him,” Kelsey announced. “I want him for murder.”
This statement caused some excitement among the trader’s party. Kelsey explained briefly. “We’ll take him back to town,” he went on. “Maybe you can find a horse for the old chief. Patch it up with him. I’ll want him for a witness when this case comes to trial.”
Gallup had a tirade ready for Kelsey and the others as they approached him. “’Bout time some one came,” he growled. “Injuns do about as they please on the Reservation nowadays.”
“Aaron Gallup,” Kelsey interrupted, “I’ve got a warrant for your arrest. You’re wanted for the murder of Crosbie Traynor.”
Gallup winced as if he had been shot. “Like hell I am,” he roared when he recovered his breath. “That whipper-snapper there is at the bottom of this!” And he hurled an oath at Johnny.
“That’s enough out of you, Gallup,” Kelsey snapped. “The boy got you, all right. We’ve had Gale’s story also.”
“And Kent’s,” Johnny added. “He’s dead,” he continued in answer to Jim’s question. “He tried to plug me; Tony stopped him. It was just as we had it figured. Gallup shot Traynor from the top of a box car.”
“That’s goin’ to be right hard on the girl,” the trader exclaimed. “Losin’ her paw thata-way. I took her and sent her down to my house just a while back. The Injuns had her.”
“You’ll get her now,” Gallup sneered at Johnny, “You’re welcome to her. What is she, anyhow? You think she’s——”
Madeiras had plucked a glowing faggot from a little “squaw” fire which the Indians had made. He pressed it against Gallup’s mouth. “Wan more word, Gallup,” he dared, “and I shove thees down your dam’, no-good t’roat!”