I
know of a shanty in the woods not so very fur from here in which
we kin put up till yer's able ter travel furder. Come, now, take a
swig of whiskey with me and then we'll sleep; there's no need of
our watchin' any longer on a night like this. I'll jest step out
an' see ef the pony's safe; sich a storm's 'nuff ter scare him off
ter the woods."
"Well, jest lay my shooter on the cha'r here aside me 'fore you
go. I feel safer with the little bull-dog in reach."
This the man did, then putting his own revolver on the table, that
it might not get wet, began to unbar the door. Swift as a shadow
Brandt glided out of the shed and around on the opposite side of
the shanty.
An instant later Bute was paralyzed by seeing his enemy enter the
open door. Before the outlaw could realize that Brandt was not a
feverish vision induced by his wound, the detective had captured
both revolvers, and was standing behind the door awaiting Apache
Jack's return.
"Hist!" whispered Brandt, "not a sound, or you will both be dead
in two minutes."
Bute's nerves were so shattered that he could scarcely have
spoken, even if he had been reckless enough to do so.
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