In one of them
he recognized the outlaw captain, and the other was the burly, red-haired
giant, whose trail he had followed the afternoon before. There was no
trace of the others and they had evidently gone to attend to the stock,
or on some errand connected with the operations of the band.
The leader's eyes fastened on Bert with a penetrating glare, as though he
sought to read the secrets of his soul. The captive met his look calmly
and defiantly, and for a moment there was a silent duel. But Bert's gaze
remained level, and the captain, a little disconcerted at his failure to
make his prisoner cringe, resorted to taunts.
"Feel kind o' wobbly, eh?" he jeered. "Got a bad little hangover from
last night? Perhaps we were a little playful, but it's just our hearty
way of welcomin' strangers. 'Specially when they come without an
invitation and we ketches them peepin' through the winders. But we don't
mean no harm, do we, Red?" and he leered at his companion, who grinned
dutifully in response to his leader's humor.
Bert made no answer.
"Now look here, young feller," snapped the speaker, dropping his
elaborate sarcasm and veering round to his natural ferocity, "you ain't
tongue-tied, I reckon, and I want to know right quick, pronto, what
you're doin' round these diggin's, anyhow.
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