We will
place the hoss in it. Then I intend to shoot you and put you in
with the hoss, and write you an epitaph that will be a comfort to
such travellers of the Trail as are honest, and a warnin' to
such as are not. I'd as soon kill you now as an hour from now,
so you may make a break for it if you feel like it."
He stooped over to look into the hole. I thought he looked an
extra long time, but when he raised his head his face had changed
complete.
"March!" says he very brisk.
We all went back to the shack. From the corral Tim took Texas
Pete's best team and hitched her to the old schooner.
"There," says he to the man. "Now you'd better hit the trail.
Take that whisky keg there for water. Good-bye."
We sat there without sayin' a word for some time after the
schooner had pulled out. Then Tim says, very abrupt:
"I've changed my mind."
He got up.
"Come on, Billy," says he to me. "We'll just leave our friend
tied up. I'll be back to-morrow to turn you loose. In the
meantime it won't hurt you a bit to be a little uncomfortable,
and hungry--and thirsty."
We rode off just about sundown, leavin' Texas Pete lashed tight.
Now all this knocked me hell-west and crooked, and I said so, but
I couldn't get a word out of Gentleman Tim.
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