“Of course if that’s the agreement.” Nevertheless, the ranger formed a private intention not to be far from the scene of action.
CHAPTER XXI.
THE WOLF PACK
“Good evening, gentlemen. Hope I don’t intrude on the festivities.”
Leroy smiled down ironically on the four flushed, startled faces that looked up at him. Suspicion was alive in every rustle of the men’s clothes. It breathed from the lowering countenances. It itched at the fingers longing for the trigger. The unending terror of a bandit’s life is that no man trusts his fellow. Hence one betrays another for fear of betrayal, or stabs him in the back to avoid it.
The outlaw chief had slipped into the room so silently that the first inkling they had of his presence was that gentle, insulting voice. Now, as he lounged easily before them, leg thrown over the back of a chair and thumbs sagging from his trouser pockets, they looked the picture of schoolboys caught by their master in a conspiracy. How long had he been there? How much had he heard? Full of suspicion and bad whisky as they were, his confident contempt still cowed the very men who were planning his destruction. A minute before they had been full of loud threats and boastings; now they could only search each other’s faces sullenly for a cue.
“Celebrating Chaves’ return from manana land, I reckon. That’s the proper ticket. I wonder if we couldn’t afford to kill another of Collins’ fatted calves.”
Mr. Hardman, not enjoying the derisive raillery, took a hand in the game. “I expect the boys hadn’t better touch the sheriff’s calves, now you and him are so thick.”
“We’re thick, are we?” Leroy’s indolent eyes narrowed slightly as they rested on him.
“Ain’t you? It sure seemed that way to me when I looked out of that mesquit wash just above Eldorado Springs and seen you and him eating together like brothers and laughing to beat the band. You was so clost to him I couldn’t draw a bead on him without risking its hitting you.”
“Spying, eh?”