“You ketched the kid in time. That's all I wanted. Take him an' Leslie up in one of the canyons an' keep them there till further orders. You needn't stay, Stockton, after you get them in a safe place. An' you can send up grub.”
Then he turned to me.
“You'll not be hurt if—”
“Don't you speak to me!” I burst out. It was on my lips to tell him of the letter to Washington, but somehow I kept silent.
“Leslie,” went on Buell, “I'll overlook your hittin' me an' let you go if you'll give me your word to keep mum about this.”
Dick did not speak, but looked at the lumberman with a dark gleam in his eyes.
“There's one thing, Buell,” said Stockton. “Jim Williams is wise. You've got to look out for him.”
Buell's ruddy face blanched. Then, without another word, he waved his hand toward the slope, and, wheeling his horse, galloped down the trail.