"Does it take much pluck to be a thief, Jake?"
"Well, in Californy it does," answered Bradley. "When a man steals a boss here, he takes his life in his hand, and don't you forget it. If it was only a year in the penitentiary, or something like that, it wouldn't scare 'em so bad. That Mosely's a bad lot, and will likely die in his boots."
"What's that?"
"Be shot standing, or swing from the branch of a tree. I thought I'd said enough last night to put him off the notion of playin' us such a trick."
"Probably he thought there wouldn't be any chance of our catching him when we were reduced to walk."
"It's likely you're right, Ben, and I ought to have thought of that. I jest wish I could set eyes on the critter at this particular minute. To treat us that way after our kindness, that's what riles me."
"What shall we do, Jake?"
"That's to be considered. Blamed if I know, unless we foot it, and that will be no joke, over these hills and through these forests."
"We may come upon their track, and overtake them when they are not expecting it."
"I wish we might," said Bradley, the lines about his mouth tightening. "I'd give 'em a lesson."