Carmena rallied and smiled up at the big trader with a show of trustful confidence. "I knew you'd keep your part of the deal, Mr. Slade," she said. "You've fought off Cochise and saved us, and there's a good big hole in his bunch. All we need do now is wait for your punchers to come in and wipe out the rest."
"Sure!" agreed Slade. "I done it. Now I got a dead cinch all 'round."
He drew his revolver and twirled the cylinder as if to make certain that it had been fully reloaded.
"Yep—a dead cinch. With me up here, Cochise won't try no more pole ladders. You and my Cookie Gal better hustle up some feed. Ain't had nothing but bacon and flapjacks since I left."
Elsie fluttered across to light her charcoal brazier. But Carmena lingered beside Lennon.
"Huh," muttered Slade. "Where'd sonny boy git hit? Ain't plunked bad, is he?"
"Oh, no. I——"
"No, not fatal," Carmena broke in on Lennon's disclaimer of serious injury. She gave Slade a significant side glance.
"No, I'm sure it won't prove fatal—just cut the bone a bit. Jack'll get over it all right if he keeps perfectly quiet."
Slade's big face took on a look of solemn concern.