“You’ll come along up an’ show us just wher’ Henderson is,” he said sharply. “It’ll make it easier findin’.” 352 He stepped up to him, and tapped him on the shoulder. “Do you get me? Ther’s been murder done, an’–––”
“I’ll stay right here,” said Jim, flashing round on him. “I’ve seen all I want to see up there. You’ll have no difficulty locating him. He’s on the south side.”
“You’ll come–––” Doc began.
But Smallbones, still smarting under his snub, could no longer keep silent.
“Take him prisoner,” he demanded. “Get him now. Are you goin’ to let him get away? Once he’s on his horse he’ll––– Say, he’s got blood on his hands, and he’s the on’y man with reason to wish Will Henderson dead. Gee, get his guns away an’ strap him fast.”
But the doctor ignored the interruption.
“You’re coming out there, Jim Thorpe,” he said deliberately, “or you’ll hand over your guns, and–––”
“Consider myself under your arrest, eh?” Jim promptly removed both of his guns from their holsters, and handed them, butt first, to the doctor. “Guess I’ll stay right here,” he said easily. “And I’m glad to hand you those; it’ll save me using them on Smallbones.”
The furious hardware dealer now bristled up, and his mean face was thrust up so that he stared into Jim’s with all the cruelty of his hatred laid bare in his eyes.
“Yes, you ken stay right here an’ we’ll look after you, me an’ a few o’ the boys. You’re a prisoner, Jim Thorpe, and if you attempt to escape, we’ll blow you to bits. We’ll look after you, sure. You shan’t escape, don’t you mistake. It ’ud do me good to hand you a little lead pizenin’.”