Suiting the action to the word, Mr. Stackpole handed over a handsome sum of money.
“But I don’t want to sell my revolver,” repeated Fletcher. “What am I to do out here alone and unarmed?”
“You’d better go back to your friend Larry Linton. He’ll look out for you.”
“You will regret this high-handed proceeding!” exclaimed Fletcher angrily.
“Maybe I shall, and maybe I shan’t,” answered Obed indifferently. “I’ll risk it.”
Fletcher halted a moment as if undecided, then turned back, and was soon out of sight.
All the party felt relieved to be rid of Fletcher. Without being able to prove anything against him, all believed him to be unworthy of confidence.
“I feel about tired out,” said Obed, about the middle of the afternoon, just after he had extricated the team, by great personal effort, from a morass. “If I’d ’a’ known as much of the country before startin’ I wouldn’t have started at all.”
“It’s a long road that has no ending,” said Harry, smiling. He, too, was very tired, but youth is hopeful.
“It’s the worst country I ever travelled in, by a long shot. If I ever make my pile I’ll take the first steamer back to Frisco.”