"
"Well, I'll be damned. Do yer hear that, Joe? Who told yer 'bout me?"
"Mr. Westcott; he mentioned you as being one of the men who attacked
him in the hotel office yesterday. He said you were one of Lacy's men.
So when I heard your name mentioned to-night I knew in whose hands I
had fallen. Was the brute who ordered you about Bill Lacy?"
"I reckon it was, miss," doubtfully. "It don't make no difference,
does it, Joe?"
"Not as I kin see," growled the other. "Leastwise, her knowin' thet
much. 'Tain't likely to do her no good, whichever way the cat jumps.
I reckon I'll have a smoke, Matt; I'm dry as a fish."
"Same here; 'bout an hour till daylight, I reckon, Joe; pass the
terbacco after yer light up."
The glow of the match gave her swift view of the man's face; it was
strange and by no means reassuring, showing hard, repulsive, the
complexion as dark as an Indian's, the eyes bold and a bit bloodshot
from drink. Meeting her glance, he grinned unpleasantly.
"I don't pose fer no lady's man, like Matt," he said sneeringly, the
match flaring between his fingers.
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