“A mere child, Judge. Well, we must be going on. It is noon. At this rate, we will fight our way out in the dark.”
“But about taking the body out, Henry.”
“The first thing to do is to find the body, Judge. Come on.”
They went on, circling, crawling, tearing their way through the brush. Circling a pot-hole in the bottom of the canyon, they reached a steep slope, reaching up into more rocks and more brush. Judge was ahead, hunched over, clawing his way up, when Henry saw the head and shoulders of a man ahead of his deputy. Henry reached for his bolstered gun, when his feet slipped and he dropped to his knees on the slope. The gun slipped out of his hand, and before he could recover it, he heard a voice snap:
“All right—come on up—and keep yore hands in sight!”
Henry managed to straighten up. Judge was above him, hands up above his shoulders. There were two men now, and one of them had a gun pointed at Henry. Taking a deep breath, Henry managed to negotiate the slope. Judge sank down on a rock, panting heavily. One of the men yanked the gun from Judge’s holster, and came to Henry to disarm him.
“Where’s yore gun?” he asked sharply.
“I—I lost it,” panted Henry. “Let me sit down—please.”
There were two men, both masked, watching Henry and Judge.
“What are you two doin’ here in the canyon?” asked one of them.