Sitting his horse with the reins tied to the saddle horn, but restraining its eagerness to move—by holding the near side ribbon with his pistol-filled left hand—Tommy Okasi watched the renegades. They were emerging from their places of concealment in response to Pudsey’s call and the clinking of the empty bottles supplied by Cole Turtle. None of them gave the slightest sign of suspecting that anything was wrong. Even their betrayer’s understandably nervous tones had passed unnoticed. As far as the little Oriental could make out, they had left their rifles and were approaching with empty hands. For his part, he was holding his tachi — its blade blackened by smoke to avoid any glitter from the steel giving the game away—and the Manton pistol which he had borrowed from his employer. His unstrung bow was suspended in the loops on the left side skirt of his saddle, but he had left the quiver of arrows in Diamond-Hitch Brindley’s care. Studying the situation. Tommy was impressed—as he had been on other occasions—by Ole Devil Hardin’s shrewd assessment of human nature.
What do You think about Ole Devil And The Caplocks?
