“Don’t call them—don’t tell them,” Allie whispered. “There’s only one condition. I’ll take you where that gold’s hidden.”
“Girl, I can make you tell,” he replied, menacingly.
“No, you can’t.”
“You ain’t so smart you think I’ll let you go—jest for some gold?” he queried. “Gold’ll be cheap along this trail soon. An’ girls like you are scarce.”
“No, that’s not what I meant.... Get rid of the others—and I’ll take you where Horn buried his gold.”
Fresno stared at her. He grinned. The idea evidently surprised and flattered him; yet it was perplexing.
“But Frank—he’s my pard—thet one with the black hat,” he protested. “I couldn’t do no dirt to Frank.... What’s your game, girl? I’ll beat you into tellin’ me where thet gold is.”
“Beating won’t make me tell,” replied Allie, with intensity. “Nothing will—if I don’t want to. My game is for my life. You know I’ve no chance among four men like you.”
“Aw, I don’t know about thet,” he blustered. “I can take care of you.... But, say, if you’d stand fer Frank, mebbe I’ll take you up.... Girl, are you lyin’ about thet gold?”
“No.”