Nick obeyed. Two of the outlaws had guns, and he tossed them away.
“How about their broncs, Roy?”
“They’ll ride those back to Nugget Camp.”
“Here!” Teddy dismounted, and went toward the tent. “Nick, let’s use a bit of this rope. They won’t need it any more.”
Together he and Nick stripped the tent of its ropes, and bound the hands of the prisoners, all but the injured man. Greyhound’s well arm was tied behind his back. Then they were ordered to mount their ponies.
From his horse Greyhound glanced carelessly at Silent.
“Reckon we swing—hey?” he asked, sneeringly.
“You’ll get a fair trial,” Silent said harshly. “If you’re guilty you’ll swing.”
“If we’re guilty!” Greyhound laughed loudly. “Well, boys, it was fun while it lasted! I told you hard luck followed me, but you thought I was kiddin’. I wasn’t. Now, you guys—” he turned toward Teddy—“there’s one you missed. He’s hidin’ under a blanket. It won’t be hangin’ for him, so he might as well come out. His bronco is tied down the trail a piece. Allen!”
From the tent came a pitiful figure, white-faced in the lightening dawn. It was the swindler from Nugget Camp.