Butler knew that the first finger
of the right hand was toying with the trigger. His glances followed
the direction indicated by the muzzle of the weapon. Then Tad's
face flushed hot all over. There, back to a tree, a rope twisted
twice about his body sat Ned Rector, defiance in face and eyes. Ned
was looking straight at his captor. The situation was strained. To
Tad, it was maddening.
"What is it you want me to tell you?" demanded the prisoner.
"I've told you that already. What are your orders?"
"And I have already told you, I have no orders from any one."
"How many are in your party?"
"Five, not including the horses."
"I wasn't asking about the cayuses. Who is in charge of you?"
"You wouldn't know if I told you."
"I'm asking you!"
"His name is Zepplin, Professor Zepplin."
"One of them scientific shooters, eh?"
"I don't know about his being a shooter. He is scientific, all right.
But what's that got to do with you and me?"
"Did this---this perfesser get his orders from Bill McKay?"
"I should say not," answered Ned with a mirthless laugh.
"Who was it you was to look up?"
"I don't know what you mean."
"Yes you do. Don't try to make a monkey of me. You'll be willing to
answer right smart after I've fanned you with a forty-four. Who is it
you and your bunch are after?"
"We are after no one. Can't you understand English?" replied Rector
with some heat, "I have told you that we are here on a trip for
pleasure and nothing else.
Pages:
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48