California John cut him short.
"I know my instructions as well as you do," said he. "They tell me to
put sheep and herders off the Reserve without using unnecessary force;
but _there ain't nothing said about putting them off in the same
place!_"
Ross Fletcher rocked with joy in his saddle.
"So that's what you had up your sleeve!" he fairly shouted. "Why, it's
as simple as a b'ar trap!"
California John pointed his gnarled forefinger at the herder.
"Call your dogs!" he commanded sharply. "Call them in, and tie them! The
first dog loose in camp will be shot. If you care for your dogs, tie
them up. Now drop your gun on the ground. Tom, you take their
shootin'-irons." He produced from his saddle bags several new pairs of
hand-cuffs, which he surveyed with satisfaction, "This is business,"
said he; "I bought these on my own hook. You bet I don't mean to have to
shoot any of you fellows in the back; and I ain't going to sit up nights
either. Snap 'em on, Charley. Now, Ross, you and Tom run those sheep
over the line, and then follow us up."
As the full meaning of the situation broke on the Frenchman's mind, he
went frantic.
Pages:
428
429
430
431
432
433
434
435
436
437
438
439
440
441
442
443
444
445
446
447
448
449
450
451
452