I reckon you
fellers will stand in all right ter help pull me out o' this hole?"
Long Pete nodded.
"Well, Pete, this is 'bout whut's got ter be done, es near es I kin
figger it out. You pick out maybe half a dozen good fellers, who kin
keep their mouths shet, an' make Injuns out of 'em. 'Tain't likely she
'll ever twig any of the boys fixed up proper in thet sorter
outfit--anyhow, she'd be too durned skeered. Then you lay fer her, say
'bout next Wednesday, out in them Carter woods, when she 's comin' home
from school. I 'll kinder naturally happen 'long by accident 'bout the
head o' the gulch, an' jump in an' rescue her. _Sabe_?"
Lumley gazed at his companion with eyes expressive of admiration. "By
thunder, if you haven't got a cocoanut on ye, Jack! Lord, but thet
ought to get her a flyin'! Any shootin'?"
"Sure!" Moffat's face exhibited a faint smile at these words of
praise. "It wouldn't be no great shucks of a rescue without, an' this
hes got ter be the real thing. Only, I reckon, ye better shoot high,
so thar' won't be no hurt done."
When the two gentlemen parted, a few moments later, the conspiracy was
fully hatched, all preliminaries perfected, and the gallant rescue of
Miss Spencer assured.
Pages:
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313
314
315
316
317
318
319
320
321