"Sure, that's right!" he
emphasized. "And I don't care how much of a trap you call this, it isn't a
patching to the one Applehead busted us out of. He's what I call a Real One,
boys."
"Aw, shet yore dang head 'n' git yore rifles workin'!" Applehead blurted.
"This yere ain't no time fer kiddin', 'n' I'm tellin' yuh straight. What's
them fellers acrost the Fryin'-pan think they're tryin' t' do? luck le's you'n
me make a few remarks over that way, 'n' leave the boys t' do some gun-talk
with these here babies behind us. Dang it, if I knowed of a better place 'n'
what this is fer holdin' 'em off, I'd say make a run fer it. But I don't 'n'
that's fact. Yuh musta sprung the trap 'fore yuh got inside, 'cause they shore
aimed t' occupy this nest uh rocks theirselves, with you fellers down there in
the Fryin'-pan where they could git at yuh.
"Thar's one of 'em up on the rim-rock--see 'im?--standin' thar, by granny,
like he was darin' somebody t' cut loose! Here, Lite, you spill some lead up
thar. We'll learn 'im t' act up smart--"
"Hey, hold on!" Luck grabbed Lite's arm as he was raising his rifle for a
close shot at the fellow. "Don't shoot! Don't you see? Thaf's the peace-sign
he's making!"
"Well, now, dang it, he better be makin' peace-signs!" growled Applehead
querulously, and sat down heavily on a shelf of the rock.
Pages:
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246