Bill Macy scratched his hook nose and looked reproachfully at his host.
At least Holt thought he was looking at him. One could not be sure, for
Bill's eyes did not exactly track.
"That ain't no kind o' way to talk to a fellow when he comes at you with
a fair proposition, Gid."
"You tell Selfridge I ain't going to leave Kamatlah--not right now. I'm
going to stay here on the job till that Land Office inspector comes--and
then I'm going to have a nice, long, confidential chat with him. See?"
"What's the use of snapping at me like a turtle? Durden says Wild-Goose
looks fine. There's gold up there--heaps of it."
"Let it stay there, then. I ain't going. That's flat." Holt turned to
adjust the damper of his stove.
"Oh, I don't know. I wouldn't say that," drawled Bill insolently.
The man at the stove caught the change in tone and turned quickly. He
was too late. Macy had thrown himself forward and the weight of his body
flung Holt against the wall. Before the miner could recover, the other
two men were upon him. They bore him to the floor and in spite of his
struggles tied him hand and foot.
Big Bill rose and looked down derisively at his prisoner. "Better change
your mind and go with us, Holt.
Pages:
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110