"Get up, an' face round," continued Loudon. "No, not so close to Rudd. About five yards to his right, so yuh won't be tempted."
For the past two minutes Loudon had been aware of Kate's approach. But he did not turn his head even when she halted her horse almost beside him.
"What do you intend doing with these men, Tom?" she inquired, a perceptible pause between the last two words of the sentence.
"Take 'em to the Cross-in-a-box," replied Loudon, without looking at her. "They'll hang—in time."
"May I have a few words alone with you?"
"Shore, ma'am, shore. I guess two won't be too many to watch, Telescope."
He walked at Kate's stirrup till they were out of earshot. Then he turned and looked up into her face in silence. She gazed at him with a curious, questioning look in her black eyes.
She had become thinner since their last meeting. But her lips were as red as ever. She had lost none of her beauty. Loudon raised his hand. In the open palm was the knotted bit of linen containing the gold pieces.
"Here's yore handkerchief," said he.
Kate made no move to take it. Instead, she continued to look at him, a crooked little smile on her lips. Loudon was the first to lower his gaze. His arm dropped to his side.