"Putty good, I reckon," was the retort. "Everything would have been all right if we hadn't met Young Wild West an' his pards there."
"Young Wild West an' his pards!" exclaimed one of the robbers, jumping to his feet, excitedly.
"Yes, that's what I said. Why, do you know anything about them galoots, Bob?"
"Do I? Well, I reckon I do! I had ther chance ter see 'em a couple of times down in Prescott, Arizona. I belonged ter a gang near there, which got cleaned out by them same three galoots yer jest spoke of. I got away jest by ther skin of my teeth, an' I was mighty thankful fur it, yer kin bet! Young Wild West ain't nothin' but a boy, an' neither is one of his pards. But ther three of 'em makes ther toughest proposition I ever seen. So they're here, are they? Well, I wish they wasn't, fur it means bad fur us. I'll bet they'll be lookin' fur us afore many hours!"
"Oh, yes. There ain't no mistake about that part of it. They'll be lookin' fur us. What do yer s'pose Young Wild West told me as we left Big Bonanza?"
"I don't know. What was it?"
"He said if we seen any outlaws in Furbidden Pass ter tell 'em that he was lookin' fur 'em."
Bob shook his head and showed that he felt very uneasy.
"I know how it'll be," he said, half to himself, "We're in fur it now. That boy has got more lives than a cat, an' when he shoots he kills every time. He's ther luckiest galoot what ever tried ter do a thing, an' if he has made up his mind ter clean us out yer kin bet he'll do it!"
"Pshaw!" spoke up one of the others. "That's all foolishness. Jest because these galoots you're talkin' about happened ter clean out ther gang you belonged to in Arizony, don't say that they're goin' ter do anything like that with us. What did I hear yer say—that Young Wild West is only a boy?"