‘Well, I won’t. And if he swears out a warrant, I’ll give yuh plenty of room for a getaway.’
Lem introduced Hashknife and Sleepy to Nan, and they all rode out of town together. Nan was worried over what might happen to Rex Morgan, but Lem refused to hurry.
‘Yore horse is all tired out, and, anyway, they won’t hurt young Morgan,’ he said. ‘Them boys will find out their mistake. One of ’em might take a punch at him for foxin’ ’em thataway.’
‘Oh, I hope not,’ said Nan. ‘His head is badly hurt, and he isn’t very strong, anyway.’
‘Did he pull that winder stunt to give yore dad a chance to git away?’ asked Noah.
‘I don’t know. Perhaps he was so frightened at the sight of those guns that he went right out through the window. You see,’ turning to Hashknife, ‘he isn’t used to this kind of a country, Mr. Hartley.’
‘I can imagine how he’d feel,’ smiled Hashknife. ‘What do yuh know about young Morgan, Miss Lane?’
‘Only what he has told us.’
‘Kind of a misfit,’ growled Lem. ‘Ort to be back in the city where he belongs.’
Noah winked at Hashknife meaningly, and Nan saw it. She blushed and turned her head away. It was nearly dark when they reached the Lane ranch. Rex was sitting on the front porch, with Paul Lane’s double-barrel shotgun across his lap. In the dim light he recognized Nan, and came out to meet them.