"You lads
want to take the hide offen Macy if he lands you in the pen through that
fool shot of his. Wonder if I hadn't better yell."
"I'll stop your clock right then if you do," threatened Big Bill with a
scowl.
Dud had been busy stamping out the camp-fire while Holway was driving
the horses into the brush.
"Mebbe you had better get the camp things behind them big rocks," Macy
conceded.
Even as he spoke there came the crack of a revolver almost at the
entrance to the draw.
One of the men swore softly. The gimlet eyes of the old miner fastened
on the spot where in another moment his hoped-for rescuers would appear.
A man staggered drunkenly into view. He reeled halfway across the mouth
of the draw and stopped. His eyes, questing dully, fell upon the camp.
He stared, as if doubtful whether they had played him false, then
lurched toward the waiting group.
"Lost, and all in," Holway said in a whisper to Dud.
The other man nodded. Neither of them made a move toward the stranger,
who stopped in front of their camp and looked with glazed eyes from one
to another. His face was drawn and haggard and lined. Extreme exhaustion
showed in every movement. He babbled incoherently.
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