“You don’t, hey?” Allen laughed shortly. “I know what it’ll get you—a rope around your neck!”
“Yea?”
The ponies moved off. Suddenly Allen, who was riding behind Nick, his gun still out, exclaimed:
“Listen, you! Hold up a minute.” He urged his pony forward and went close to Nick. “Now I ain’t a vindictive cuss,” he said softly. “All I want is my gold. It won’t do me no good to have you strung up. So—” he hesitated. Then: “I’ll give you a chance. I shouldn’t, but I will. By rights I ought to ride you in an’ let the boys at camp fit a necktie on to you. That’s what I ought to do. But I’ll give you a chance. You get my gold back from wherever you put it an’ we’ll call it off. You had about ten thousand dollars’ worth. You give me ten thousand in cash or in gold, an’ I’ll forget all about it. See?”
Like a flash Nick saw the game. Fool, fool that he was not to have caught on before! Framed! Framed as pretty as any one ever was!
As he thought of how he had fallen for the ruse, he laughed bitterly.
“You’re a clever guy, Allen,” he said. “Blamed clever. There’s one thing you overlooked. I haven’t got ten thousand dollars or ten thousand nickels, either. You crazy, or somethin’? Where’d I get ten thousand dollars?”
Allen shrugged his shoulders.
“That’s up to you. If you don’t want to give me my gold back, maybe your friends will lend you the money—to save you from hangin’. Those Manley boys can get the cash—an’ they will, too. It ain’t pleasant to see a pal doin’ a Black Bottom on a hunk of air.”
The blood rushed to Nick’s face.