Krell and Selden were "killers." They were Antrim's constant companions,
except when the necessities of his trade drove the outlaw to work alone.
They knew his whims and understood his methods.
Now, as Antrim paused near the table and looked at them, Krell smiled
evilly.
"I reckon we'll be settin' here twirlin' our thumbs till the outfit gits
back?" he suggested.
Antrim laughed.
"We're trailin' the outfit right now," he told the other.
Antrim extinguished the light, and the three went out and mounted their
horses. Their movements were deliberate, unhurried. They crossed the
river, gaining the plains above it, and rode at a slow lope in the
direction taken by the others who had preceded them.
They talked as they rode, lowly, earnestly--planning the night's work,
speculating upon the probable outcome of the raid upon the Circle L by
the men under Slade.
When they reached the edge of the big valley and concealed themselves in
the fringing brush, they saw that Slade and his men had already struck.
Streaks of flame were splitting the darkness in the basin; there were
reports of pistols--which were reduced to mere faint, popping noises by
the distance they traveled before reaching the ears of Antrim and his
men; they saw the herd start; heard it go thundering up the valley in a
cloud of dust and strike the edge of the plain above, to swing eastward
toward Kinney's canon.
Pages:
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270