"If you so much as touch her, you'll die for it," he gulped at Weaver, in a sudden boyish passion. "We'll shoot you down like a dog."
"Or a coyote," suggested Buck, with a swift glance at Phyllis. "It seems to be a family habit. I'm much obliged to you."
Phyl was in her brother's arms, frankly in tears.
It was all very well to tell him to go; it was quite another thing to let him go without a good cry at losing him.
"Just say the word, and I'll see it out with you, sis," he told her.
"No, no! I want you to go. I wouldn't have you stay. Tell the boys it's all right, and don't let them do anything rash."
Sanderson clenched his teeth, and looked at Weaver. "Oh, they'll do nothing rash. Now they know you're here, they won't do a thing but sit down and be happy, I expect."
The twins whispered together for a minute, then the boy kissed her, put her from him suddenly, and strode away. From the door he called back two words at the cattleman.
"Don't forget."
With that, he was gone. Yet a moment, and they heard the clatter of his horse's hoofs.