“Now, see here, which would you rather do, get that gold––an’ there’s plenty; it comes right through here to Barnriff––or see Will hang?”
In spite of his hatred of Will, the boy was dazzled.
“I’d like to see Will hang––but––I’d rather git the gold.”
“Well,” said Peter, with a sigh of relief, “ther’s just one way for you to get it. You’ve got to put us wise how to get to Will to warn him before Doc gets him. If Will hangs, you don’t get your gold.”
A sudden hope lit Eve’s troubled face. This man, she knew, was to be Will’s savior––her savior. Her heart swelled with thankfulness and hope. This man, without a second’s demur, had embraced her cause, was ready to incriminate himself, to save the worst criminal a cattle country 263 knows, because––just because he wanted to help a woman, who was nothing to him, and never could be anything to him. It was the love he had for all suffering humanity, the wonderful charity of his kindly heart, that made him desire to help all those who needed his help.
She was listening now to the manner in which he extracted from her unwilling brother the information he sought. He did it bit by bit, with much care and deliberation. He wanted no mistake. The direction in which Will’s secret corrals lay must be given with the last word in exactness, for any delay in finding him might upset his purpose.
Having extracted all the information necessary, he gave the lad a final warning.
“Now, see here, Elia, you’re a good lad––better than you seem; but I’m not going to be played with. I’ve got gold in plenty, sure, and you’re going to get it if you stay right here, and don’t say a word to any one about Will or this cattle-rustling. If you do anything that prevents Will getting clear away, or let folks know that he’s the rustler, then you get no gold––not one cent.”
“Then, wot’s this I’ve heerd about Jim? Guess you want him to get the blame. You want ’em to hang Jim Thorpe?”
The boy’s cunning was paralyzing. Eve’s eyes widened with a fresh fear, and, for a moment, Peter was gravely silent.