“Four. But I think there’s another that I didn’t see. They have a tent with the broncs tied near it. A cliff of some sort rises at the back.”
“They can’t get through that way?”
“Don’t see how.”
Roy thought for a moment before he spoke again.
“Silent,” he said, “there’s one thing I’ve got to say. We’re not riding these men down to shoot them like dogs, even though that’s what they are. We’re going to round ’em up and take ’em back to camp.”
“I see, Roy.” Silent’s voice was a monotone. “Reckon you’re right. But when I see the skunk who shot my dad an’ brother in cold blood—”
“I know, Silent,” Roy broke in. “But we’re not like that, see? We can’t do it!”
“Nope, we can’t.” Silent swallowed audibly. “You got my word, Roy.”
“That’s the fight! It’s best, Silent—you know that.”
“Yea, I know that, Roy. All right. That’s over. Now here’s what I think we ought to do. It’ll be morning soon, and the best time to get those rascals would be at dawn when there’s light enough to see, but not too much.”