The Texan squatted beside the horse-thief. "Be'n over on the other side—Y Bar," he imparted briefly. "Cass, I need your help."
The other nodded: "I mistrusted you would. Name it."
"In the first place, is Purdy one of your gang? Long Bill said so—but I didn't believe him."
"Why?"
"Well—he ain't the stripe I thought you'd pick."
The outlaw grinned: "Make a mistake sometimes, same as other folks—yup I picked him."
The Texan frowned: "I'm sorry, Cass. You an' I've be'n friends for a long while. But—Cass, I'm goin' to get Purdy. If I've got to go to your hang-out an' fight your whole gang—I'm goin' to get him!"
"Help yerself," Grimshaw grinned, "an' just to show you there's no hard feelin's, I'll let the tail go with the hide—there's three others you c'n have along with him."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean if you don't get him before supper, I'll have to. The four of 'em's got tired of the horse game. Banks an' railroad trains looks better to them. I'm too slow fer 'em. They're tired of me, an' tonight they aim to kill me an' Bill Harlow—which they're welcome to if they can git away with it."