Lemuel watched him in fearful fascination, trying to fathom his intentions, hoping in vain that by some means, Lennox, helpless though he was in the grip of the plaster cast, might rescue him from his awful predicament. After a moment, it began to dawn on him that Billy Gee was not displaying those evidences of rage and hatred that he felt certain should forecast revenge. In fact, he thought the outlaw seemed friendly, notwithstanding the steely glitter in his eyes. At any rate, he told himself, the fellow looked well-fed, well-groomed, handsome indeed, compared to that wan, hollow-eyed, half-dead wretch he had delivered to Bob Warburton on that never-to-be-forgotten morning.
“What’re you shakin’ about?” asked Billy Gee presently. “I had an idea you was gritty, the way you acted that time you herded me into camp.” He showed his even teeth in a hard grin. “I promised I’d make you pay, Huntington. You remember that? I ain’t forgot it, but I ain’t ready yet. I jest dropped in to have a quiet leetle chat with you. I see Lex Sangerly is stoppin’ here with you, an’ the minin’ engineer, Lennox. How’s he gettin’ along?”
“He—what d’you want? I’m busy. I’m—I’m writin’,” burst out Lemuel nervously.
“I hear Miss Dot is doin’ fine at the university,” said the other, with a glance at the letter. “I wish you’d give her my best reegards. You sure got a lady for a daughter, Huntington, an’ it ain’t from yore side of the fam’ly either.”
A short, painful silence fell. Billy Gee’s glance wandered to the storeroom where Lennox lay.
“Grab the lamp! I want to see how he’s makin’ out,” he said, rising to his feet as he spoke.
Preceded by Lemuel bearing the light, he crossed the kitchen and entered the little room. Halting beside the cot he smiled down at its occupant.
“Hello, pard! How’re you feelin’?”
Lennox regarded him curiously a moment, then grinned. “You’re the man who saved my life, aren’t you? I’m feeling better than I did that night. My leg is knitting, but it’s hell lying here.”
“It sure must be. I reckon you’ll come out all right, though. Say, I’d lay poorty low if I was you! The Quintell bunch’s after you, red hot.”