He did not like to be one of so large
a party held up by a single man. In fact, Joe was a good deal of a
warrior himself. He was new to the Valley of the Eagles, but there
were other parts of the mountain-desert where his fame was spread
broadcast. There were even places where sundry officers of the law
would have been glad to lay hands upon him.
"Well," quoth Joe, "we'll give him a chance. If he ain't a fighting
man, but just a plain murderer, we'll let him show it," and so saying,
he stepped boldly out from the sheltering darkness of the trees and
strode towards the hut, an immense and awesome figure in the twilight.
Lew Hervey followed at once. It would not do to be out-dared by one of
his crew in a crisis as important as this. But for all his haste the
long strides of Joe had brought him to the door of the hut many yards
in the lead, and he disappeared inside. Presently his big voice
boomed: "He ain't here. Plumb vanished."
They gathered in the hut at once.
"Where's he gone?" asked the foreman, scratching his head.
"Maybe he ain't acting as big as he talked," said Shorty. "Maybe he's
slid over the mountains."
"Strike a light, somebody," commanded the foreman.
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