The girl’s dark eyes softened as she looked at them. They had fought a good fight, just as a matter of course and all in the day’s work. She had been down a mine. Her imagination filled in the horrors of the fearful hours in that hell’s cauldron from which they had at last dragged the imprisoned miners.
“Let me send for Doctor Rogers,” she said gently.
“You feelin’ sick, Vicky?” Hugh asked with a flare of humour.
“I mean, to look at you and Mr. Byers.”
“We ain’t much to look at right now. I expect he’d rather see us some time when we’re not so dog tired. Find us more entertainin’.”
“Then you’d better go upstairs and sleep. Mr. Budd says he’ll watch your prisoner till night.”
“And what then?” asked Hugh. “We can’t just saddle up and hit the trail for Carson. Never in the world get there. By this time they’ve wired to Ralph Dodson. He’s on the job at the other end of the line.”
“What makes you think so?” Vicky asked.
“Because Bob Dodson hired Dutch to shoot Scot. He showed it when he lit out with him in the middle of the night. Dodson has got to stand by Dutch to keep him from telling all he knows. He’s sure sent a hurry-up call for help to brother Ralph. Their play is to prevent me from reaching Carson with Dutch a prisoner. Once there, with feeling in the town high against him, the killer would be liable to tell who was back of the shooting. He’d do it out of revenge because he had not been rescued.”
“I can telegraph to Carson for help and have friends come and meet you.”