"Aw jest put a bullet whar it'll do the most good," a third suggested.
Bob was scared. He knew that he was in the hands of desperate men, men who would stop at nothing if they thought their safety was threatened, and his heart sank as he heard the suggestions from the different members of the band. How he wished he had listened to Sue and his brother and was safe back at the ranch.
"He's only a kid," suggested the black-haired man.
"But he big enough ter tell what he's seen," another declared.
"Sure he is, but what has he seen?"
"He's seen us, ain't he?"
"And so have a lot others."
"Aw, what's the use o' arguin' 'bout it I'll do the trick," a man who had not spoken before, said as he drew an ugly-looking revolver from his belt, and Bob gave an involuntary shudder.
"Hold on thar, Tim," Hains ordered and the man replaced the gun, growling something which Bob did not catch. "Let's get supper first an' then we'll tend ter him. Now, kid, you stay put right thar and if yer try to get away yer'll get a bullet that'll stop yer. Get me?"
Bob did not doubt that the man meant exactly what he said and he sank down on a rock with a sigh which he could not repress. Not that he had given up hope, but he could not help feeling that his situation was desperate in the extreme. Perhaps after all, he thought, the men were only trying to scare him. He tried to force himself to believe that such was the case but got little comfort from the hope. Closing his eyes for a moment he breathed a silent prayer for protection and, somehow, after that he felt better.