"My riata's gone!" announced Jack breathlessly, bursting into the room
at that moment as if he expected to find the thief there. "I left it on
my saddle last night, and now--"
"And that was a fool thing to do, I must say!" commented Dade, startled
into harshness. He slid the pistol into its holster and buckled the belt
around his muscular body with fingers that moved briskly. "Well, my
riata's no slouch--you can use it. You've used it before."
"I don't want yours. I've got used to my own. I know to an inch just
where it will land--oh, damn the luck--It was some of those fellows
camped by the orchard, and when I find out which--"
"Keep your head on, anyway," advised Dade more equably. "Your nerves
must be pretty well frazzled. If you let a little thing like this upset
you, how do you expect--"
"It ain't a little thing!" gritted Jack, loading his pistols hurriedly.
"That six-strand riata has got a different feel, a different weight--oh,
you know it's going to make all the difference in the world when I get
out there with Jose. Whoever took it knew what it meant, all right! Some
one--"
"Where's Surry?" A sudden fear sent Dade hurrying to the door. "By the
Lord Harry, if they've hurt Surry--" He jerked the door open and went
out, Jack hard upon his heels.
"I didn't think of that," Jack confessed on the way to the stable, and
got a look of intense disgust from Dade, which he mitigated somewhat by
his next remark.
Pages:
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242