"They have. A year ago I couldn't have drove my Curly away from the gang, but now he's paired with that du Chesnay youngster. Them colts won't care for the herd if they can run together, so I've got Curly weaned from following me to—to damnation."
"Mutiny," says I, "will you help me to gather in these boys?"
"I shorely will," says Mutiny; "but hadn't we ought to wait until they're moved up this way for trial?"
"Wall," says the outlaw, "if I kin get to fight with a small man, I don't yearn for anything larger. Whirl in on La Morita, and you're fighting Mexico; wait for a move, and you're up against the hull United States. I'd rather have a lick at lil' ole Mexico."
I told him that I had a town full of cowboys hard to hold.
"That kind won't keep," says Mutiny; "what's yo' plan?"
"I aimed," says I, "to steal young Ryan, and throw him into La Morita by way of consolation for them poor Frontier Guards when they miss their plunder."
"Now don't you touch my meat," says Captain McCalmont; "I have to feed my little small lambs on him. Now, Misteh Davies."
"Answers to the name of Chalkeye mostly."
"Wall, Chalkeye, this is the second time we meet," he bored into me with his eyes; "I understand that Balshannon's will makes you some sort of guardian of his colt."