With perfect grace he bowed, and as he wheeled away met with a little shock of remembrance the gaze of his cousin. For a long moment their eyes bored into each other. Neither yielded the beat of an eyelid, but it was the outlaw that spoke.
“I had forgotten y’u. That’s strange, too because it was for y’u I came. I’m going to take y’u home with me.
“Alive or dead?” asked the other serenely.
“Alive, dear Ned.”
“Same old traits cropping out again. There was always something feline about y’u. I remember when y’u were a boy y’u liked to torment wild animals y’u had trapped.”
“I play with larger game now—and find it more interesting.”
“Just so. Miss Messiter, I shall have to borrow a pony from y’u, unless—” He broke off and turned indifferently to the bandit.
“Yes, I brought a hawss along with me for y’u,” replied the other to the unvoiced question. “I thought maybe y’u might want to ride with us.”
“But he can’t ride. He couldn’t possibly. It would kill him,” the girl broke out.
“I reckon not.” The man from the Shoshones glanced at his victim as he drew on his gauntlets. “He’s a heap tougher than y’u think.”