Patches added sharply, "You can't give me the slip, either; I can kill
you before you get half way to your horse."
Trapped and helpless, Joe looked pleadingly at his captor. "You wouldn't
send me up, would you, now, Patches?" he whined. "You an' me's good
friends, ain't we? Anyway he wouldn't let me go to the pen, an' the boys
wouldn't dast do nothin' to me when they knew."
"Whom are you talking about?" demanded Patches. "Nick? Don't be a fool,
Joe; Nick will be there right alongside of you."
"I ain't meanin' Nick; I mean _him_ over there at the
Cross-Triangle--Professor Parkhill. I'm a-tellin' you that _he_ wouldn't
let you do nothin' to me."
"Forget it, Joe," came the reply, without an instant's hesitation. "You
know as well as I do how much chance Professor Parkhill, or anyone else,
would have, trying to keep the boys from making you and Nick dance on
nothing, once they hear of this. Besides, the professor is not in the
valley now."
The poor outcast's fright was pitiful. "You ain't meanin' that he--that
he's gone?" he gasped.
"Listen, Joe," said Patches quickly. "I can do more for you than he
could, even if he were here.
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