Leave them here; they need a rest. Besides, a man can't do any
thinkin' to amount to anything when he's forkin' a horse, an' I reckon
you two coyotes will be doin' a heap of thinkin' on your way back to
the Arrow."
"Good Lord!" said the elder Taggart; "you don't mean that? Why, it's
fifteen miles to the Arrow!"
"Shucks," said Calumet; "so it is! An' it's after midnight, too. But
you wouldn't want them poor, respectable critters to be gallivantin'
around at this time of the night, when they ought to be in bed dreamin'
of the horse-heaven which they're goin' to one of these days when the
Taggarts don't own them any more. You can send a man over after them
when you get back, an' if they want to go home, why, I'll let them."
His voice changed again; it rang with a menacing command.
"Walkin' is good!" he said; "get goin'! You've got three minutes to
get to that bend in the trail over by the crick. It's about half a
mile. I'm turnin' my back. If I see you when I turn around I'm
workin' that rifle there."
There was a silence which might have lasted a second. Only this small
space of time was required by the Taggarts to convince them that
Calumet was in deadly earnest. Then, with Neal leading, they began to
run toward the bend in the trail.
Shortly Calumet turned. The Taggarts had almost reached the bend, and
while he watched they vanished behind it.
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