“What is it, Mary? What’s happened? You don’t mean to tell me that—that another man’s been shot.”
Buck’s eyes widened, but he did not pause. “That’s the aunt, I reckon,” he muttered, as he sped down the slope. His lips straightened. “Another! Holy cats! What the devil am I up against, anyhow? A murder syndicate?”
CHAPTER VIII
THE HOODOO OUTFIT
Pop Daggett hesitated and glanced uneasily toward the door.
“I warned yuh, didn’t I, the Shoe-Bar was a hoodoo outfit?” he evaded.
Stratton shook some tobacco into a cigarette-paper and jerked the draw-string with his teeth.
“Sure you did, but that’s not the question,” he persisted. “I asked you if any other punchers had met up with—accidents out there lately.”