“Yes, Jake,” said the dying man, with a glance of pity not unmingled with scorn, “it has come sooner than you or I expected, and it will save you some trouble—maybe some regret. I’ve seen through your little game, Jake, and am glad I’ve been spared the necessity of thwarting you.”
He stopped owing to weakness, and Jake, recovering himself, hastily explained the reason of his sudden appearance.
“Fetch me a rag an’ some water, boys,” he continued. “It looks worse than it is—only skin deep. And we’ve not a moment to lose. Those who have a mind may follow me. Them that wants to swing may stop.”
“But how about Buck Tom?” asked one who was not quite so depraved as the others.
“What’s the use o’ askin’?” said Jake. “It’s all up with him, don’t you see? Besides, he’s safe enough. They’d never have the heart to hang a dying man.”
“An’ Leather!” cried another. “We mustn’t quit Leather. He’s game for many a fight yet. Come, Leather; we’ll help you along, for they’re sure to string you up on the nearest tree.”
“Don’t trouble yourself about me,” said Leather, looking round, for he still kneeled beside his old friend, “I don’t intend to escape. Look to yourselves, boys, an’ leave us alone.”
“Unless you’re all tired o’ life you’ll quit here an’ skip for the woods,” said Jake, as, turning round, he hurriedly left the place.
The others did not hesitate, but followed him at once, leaving Buck Tom, and his friend to shift for themselves.
During all this scene Hunky Ben had been intently gazing and listening—chiefly the latter. When the outlaws filed past him he found it extremely difficult to avoid putting a bullet into the Flint, but he restrained himself because of what yet remained to be done.