Part 23 (1/2)

”No, we won't,” announced Kit. He was getting angry, too.

”You pa.s.s me those shoes or something is liable to happen to you mighty sudden. I'll break you in two.”

”I'll get the rifle,” said Jed, and started; but I called him back. We didn't need a rifle.

”He can't do anything in bare feet like that,” I said. And he couldn't.

His feet were too soft and burned. That is why we kept the shoes, of course.

”I can't, eh?”

”No. We aren't afraid.”

He started to stand, and then he sat back again.

”I'll put a hole in some of you,” he muttered; and felt at the side of his chest. But if he had carried a gun in a Texas holster there, it was gone. ”Say, you, what's the matter with you?” he queried. ”What do you want to keep me here for?”

”You'd better wait. We'll stay, too.”

He glared at us. Then he began to wheedle.

”Say, what'd I ever do to you? Didn't I give you back that message, and tell you all I knew? Didn't I help you out as much as I could?”

”Sure,” we said.

”Then what have you got it in for me for?”

”We'd rather you'd wait till the Ranger or somebody comes along,” I explained.

He fumbled in a pants pocket.

”Lookee here,” he offered. And he held it out. ”Here's a twenty-dollar gold piece. Take it and divvy it among you; and I'll go along and n.o.body'll be the wiser.”

”No, thanks,” we said.

”I'll make it twenty apiece for each,” he insisted. ”Here they are. See?

Give me those shoes, and take these yellow bucks and go and have a good time.”

But we shook our heads, and had to laugh. He couldn't bluff us Scouts, and he couldn't bribe us, either. He twisted and stood up, and we jumped away, and Kit was ready to grab up the shoes and carry them across into the burned timber where the ground was still hot.

The man swore and threatened frightfully.

”I'd like to get my fingers on one of you, once,” he stormed. ”You'd sing a different tune.”

So we would. But we had the advantage now and we didn't propose to lose it. He couldn't travel far in bare, blistered feet. I wished that he'd sit down again. We didn't want to torment him or nag him, just because we had him. He did sit down.

”What do you think I am, anyhow?” he asked.

”Well, you've been killing beaver,” I told him.

”Who said so?”