Belding
began to work over her.
Belding looked at his rangers. It was characteristic of the man
that, now when catastrophe appeared inevitable, all the gloom
and care and angry agitation passed from him.
"Laddy, it's Rojas all right. How many men has he out there?"
"Mebbe twenty. Not more."
"We can lick twice that many Greasers."
"Shore."
Jim Lash removed his pipe long enough to speak.
"I reckon. But it ain't sense to start a fight when mebbe we can
avoid it."
"What's your idea?"
"Let's stave the Greaser off till dark. Then Laddy an' me an'
Thorne will take Mercedes an' hit the trail for Yuma."
"Camino del Diablo! That awful trail with a woman! Jim, do you
forget how many hundreds of men have perished on the Devil's
Road?"
"I reckon I ain't forgettin' nothin'," replied Jim. "The waterholes
are full now. There's grass, an' we can do the job in six days."
"It's three hundred miles to Yuma."
"Beldin', Jim's idea hits me pretty reasonable," interposed Ladd.
"Lord knows that's about the only chance we've got except fightin'."
"But suppose we do stave Rojas off, and you get safely away with
Mercedes. Isn't Rojas going to find it out quick? Then what'll he
try to do to us who're left here?"
"I reckon he'd find out by daylight," replied Jim. "But, Tom, he
ain't agoin' to start a scrap then. He'd want time an' hosses an'
men to chase us out on the trail. You see, I'm figgerin' on the
crazy Greaser wantin' the girl.
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