You'd located the rustlers' camp. You needed to see me quick."
Jeff's words came swiftly. Then after a pause he added: "You didn't
send him along? Who did?"
As Jeff watched the man's deliberate shake of the head he became aware
of a muffled sound, somewhere away beyond the door. It was faint, but,
to him, unmistakable. He gave no sign.
"Where are the other boys?" he demanded.
"Out on cattle guard."
The movement beyond the door again penetrated the silence of the hut.
Now it was that the ranchman made his mistake. Only for an instant did
he turn his head and eyes in the direction of the sound. But it was
sufficient.
Jeff's voice rasped again.
"Stand up, darn you! Stand up!"
Sikkem's gaze came back abruptly, and on the instant his right hand
flew to his waist for his guns. But the muzzle of Jeff's revolver was
within a foot of his head, and behind it his coldly shining eyes.
Sikkem's hand dropped from his waist. He stood up. The law of the gun
was powerfully ingrained upon his mind.
"Loose those guns at your waist--quick! Let 'em drop on the bunk!
Quick, or I'll pump you full of lead!"
The deadliness of Jeff's command was irresistible.
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