She wondered whether one of these men was Silver. Neither looked like the man who had taunted her. They were not so tall and slim as Silver.
It was, possibly, thirty minutes after the departure of the two men when she heard the soft plop-plop of a horse’s hoofs. She listened intently. The horse had stopped near the cabin door, and she heard a footstep.
Suddenly the door was flung open and a man stood in the opening—a tall, slender man. She was looking against the light and could not see his features, but she knew it was Jack Silver.
He came slowly in and stood looking down at her.
“Reber’s squaw, eh?” he said softly.
June shut her lips tightly, refusing to reply. He walked back to the door and looked around. Beyond him she could see his tall black horse looking toward him. Finally he came back to her and began taking off the ropes.
It did not take him long to unfasten her hands, and then he dropped to his knees beside her, fumbling with the knots beneath the chair. It was her big chance, and she had the nerve to take advantage of it.
Leaning slightly toward him she reached down and quickly whipped the six-shooter from his holster and shoved the muzzle against his neck. June knew guns. The hammer came to full cock from a twist of her thumb.
Jack Silver did not look up, but his hands came away from the rope. He did not move, but waited for her to act.
“Unfasten that rope,” she ordered, and was surprized to find her voice fairly steady.