"Then," said Royce at the end of it, his mind catching eagerly one
outstanding fact, "I was right, Steve? An' it was Blenham as gave me
both barrels of Johnny Mills's shot-gun? It was Blenham for sure,
wasn't it, Steve?"
"Yes, Bill. It was Blenham."
"An'--an' Blenham's right across there now? It's him I can hear
breathin', Steve?"
"Yes, Bill."
"An'--an' what for did you sen' for me, Steve? What are you goin' to
do to him?"
Packard beckoned to Barbee. The boy came quickly to his side, giving
him the blacksnake. Steve laid it across Bill Royce's hand.
"I'm going to give him a taste of that, Bill," he said. "And I wanted
you here. You can't see it; but before I am through with him, you can
hear it!"
"Goin' to tie him up an' whip him, Steve? That it?"
"Pack of low-bred mongrel pups!" cried Blenham wrathfully, for the
first time breaking his silence. "Sneakin', low-lived curs an'
cowards!"
"That it, Steve?" persisted Royce. "Goin' to tie him up an' give him a
whippin' with a blacksnake?"
"I am going to whip him--for your sake, Bill," answered Steve sternly.
He threw off his coat, tossing it behind him.
"Get the chairs and table out of the way, Barbee! No, I am not going
to tie him up; that isn't necessary, Bill. I can handle him with my
hands without tying him; I am going to do it. And then I am going to
take the whip and lay it across him until his hide is in strips--or
until he begs to be let go.
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