"Oh, they'd do it quick enough! I wouldn't put it past 'em to drop a .45 through your winder if it could be done safe."
"Shoot me, you mean?"
"Allah!" said Glass, devoutly from his corner.
Stover and Willie nodded. "If I was you, I'd keep the lamp between me and the winder every night."
"Why, this is abominable!" exclaimed the young college man, stiffly. "I—I can't stand for this, it's getting too serious."
"There ain't nothin' to fear," said Willie, soothingly. "Remember, I told you at the start that we'd see there wasn't no crooked work done. Well, I'm goin' to ride herd on you, constant, Mr. Speed." He smiled in a manner to reassure. "If there's any shootin' comes off, I'll be in on it."
"S—say, what's to prevent us being murdered when we're out for a run?" queried Glass.
"Me!" declared the little man. "I'll saddle my bronc' an' lope along with you. We'll keep to the open country."
Instantly Speed saw the direful consequences of such a procedure, and summoned his courage to say: "No. It's very kind of you, but I shall give up training."
"What!"