“Ay,” protested Raw; “no bluffin’.”
“There’s no bluffing about me,” Tresler said quickly. “I’m dead in earnest. Here, listen, boys. I want you all to go out quietly, one by one. It’s eight miles to Widow Dangley’s. Arrange to get there by half-past one in the morning—and don’t forget your guns. There’s a big bluff adjoining the house,” he suggested significantly. “I shall be along, and so will the sheriff and all his men. I think there’ll be a racket, and we may—there, I can tell you no more. I refrained from asking Marbolt’s permission; you remember what he said once before. We’ll not risk saying anything to him.”
“I’m in to the limit,” said Raw, with decision.
“Guess we don’t want no limit to this racket. We’ll jest get right along,” said Jacob, quietly.
And after that the men filed out one by one. And when the last had gone, Tresler put the lamp out and locked the door. Then he quietly stole up to the kitchen and peered in at the window. Diane was there, so was Joe, with two guns hanging to his belt. He had little difficulty in drawing their attention. There was no dalliance about his visit this time. He waived aside the eager questions with which the girl assailed him, and merely gave her a quiet warning.
“Stay up all night, dear,” he said, “but do not let your father know it.”
To Joe he said: “Joe, if you sleep a wink this night I’ll never forgive you.”
Then he hurried away, satisfied that neither would fail him, and went to the barn. Without a word, almost without a sound, he saddled the Lady Jezebel.
His mare ready, he went and gazed long and earnestly up at the rancher’s house. He was speculating in his mind as to the risk he was running. Not the general risk, but the risk of success or failure in his enterprise.