What a strange look came into the faces of the riders! Did, they think he cared more for horseflesh than for his own flesh and blood?
"Send the King—an' all he wants.... An' send word fer Creech to come back to the Ford.... Tell him I said—my sin found me out!"
Bostil watched Joel Creech ride the King out upon the slope, driving the others ahead. Sage King wanted to run. Sarchedon was wild and unruly. They passed out of sight. Then Bostil turned to his silent riders.
"Boys, seein' the King go thet way wasn't nothin'.... But what crucifies me is—WILL THET FETCH HER BACK?"
"God only knows!" replied Holley. "Mebbe not—I reckon not! ... But, Bostil, you forget Slone is out there on Lucy's trail. Out there ahead of Joel! Slone he's a wild-hoss hunter—the keenest I ever seen. Do you think Creech can shake him on a trail? He'll kill Creech, an' he'll lay fer Joel goin' back—an' he'll kill him.... An' I'll bet my all he'll ride in here with Lucy an' the King!"
"Holley, you ain't figurin' on thet red hoss of Slone's ridin' down the King?"
Holley laughed as if Bostil's query was the strangest thing of all that poignant day. "Naw. Slone'll lay fer Joel an' rope him like he roped Dick Sears."
"Holley, I reckon you see—clearer 'n me," said Bostil, plaintively. "'Pears as if I never had a hard knock before. Fer my nerve's broke. I can't hope.... Lucy's gone! ... Ain't there anythin' to do but wait?"
"Thet's all. Jest wait. If we went out on Joel's trail we'd queer the chance of Creech's bein' honest. An' we'd queer Slone's game. I'd hate to have him trailin' me."