“Howdy, Dale,” drawled Wilson. “Reckon you're a little previous on me.”
“Sssssh! Not so loud,” said the hunter, in low voice. “You're Jim Wilson?”
“Shore am. Say, Dale, you showed up soon. Or did you jest happen to run acrost us?”
“I've trailed you. Wilson, I'm after the girl.”
“I knowed thet when I seen you!”
The cougar seemed actuated by the threatening position of his master, and he opened his mouth, showing great yellow fangs, and spat at Wilson. The outlaw apparently had no fear of Dale or the cocked rifle, but that huge, snarling cat occasioned him uneasiness.
“Wilson, I've heard you spoken of as a white outlaw,” said Dale.
“Mebbe I am. But shore I'll be a scared one in a minit. Dale, he's goin' to jump me!”
“The cougar won't jump you unless I make him. Wilson, if I let you go will you get the girl for me?”
“Wal, lemme see. Supposin' I refuse?” queried Wilson, shrewdly.