He got to his feet just as Big Bill, his eyes and brain still fogged
with sleep, sat up and began to take notice of the disturbance.
"Don't move," warned Holt sharply. "Better throw your hands up. You
reach for the stars, too, Holway. No monkey business, do you hear? I'd
as lief blow a hole through you as not."
Big Bill turned bitterly upon Elliot. "So you were faking all the time,
young fellow. We save your life and you round on us. You're a pretty
slick proposition as a double-crosser."
"And that ain't all," chirped up Holt blithely. "Let me introduce our
friend to you, Mr. Big Bill Macy. This is Gordon Elliot, the land agent
appointed to look over the Kamatlah claims. Selfridge gave you lads this
penitentiary job so as I wouldn't meet Elliot when he reached the camp.
If he hadn't been so darned anxious about it, our young friend would
have died here on the divide. But Mr. Selfridge kindly outfitted a party
and sent us a hundred miles into the hills to rescue the perishing, as
the old sayin' goes. Consequence is, Elliot and me meet up and have that
nice confidential talk after all. The ways of Providence is strange, as
you might say, Mr. Macy."
"Your trick," conceded Big Bill sullenly.
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