“Likes heroes, eh?” mused Sig. “Jist about what causes uh man to be uh hero?”

“Uh heero,” states Ren, “is uh feller who does jist what any one else would have done in his place, but he beat ’em to it. Sabe? He allus saves th’ girl.”

“Saves th’ girl, eh?” Sig runs his fingers down th’ creases in his chaps and thinks deeply.

“Ren, I got a idea.”

“Shoot.”

“I’ll save Rosalind.”

“Huh!” Ren spat his cigaret out and stared at Sig. “Save her from what?”

“You,” stated Sig, eagerlike.

“Haw! Haw! Haw! Save her from me! That’s uh hy-iu idea, Ren. What am I supposed to be?”

“Uh desperado. Lissen. Art Miller carries money sometimes on th’ stage and almost every trip he has uh passenger or two what would assay six bits or uh dollar, and they’re liable to be held up any trip. Here’s th’ big idea:

“Remember them big rocks on this side of th’ Hell Gate crossin’? Peach of uh place fer uh holdup, Ren. Now, on Monday afternoon, you be up in them rocks, with uh mask on, and when Art drives out of th’ ford you throw down on him with yore rifle and yell, ‘Hands up!’ Mebby yuh better shoot once or twice so as to make th’ play good. We’ll pull th’ bullets out of some ca’tridges so nobody won’t git hurt. When you yells and shoots uh few times, here I comes across th’ ford ridin’ like th’ devil and starts throwin’ lead and you ducks, sabe? I’ll save th’ stage from bein’ held up and, bein’ as Rosalind is on th’ stage, I’ll be uh hero. Ren, are yuh game to help uh needin’ friend?”

“And mebby go to Deer Lodge and wear uh number like uh box-car,” objected Ren sarcastically.

“Nobody’ll know yuh,” pleads Sig. “Don’t throw me down, Ren. How many times you been to Piperock since I left?”

“Every day,” grinned Ren.

“Gosh! When is it comin’ off?”

Ren shook his head and looked thoughtful.

 Prev. P 8/15 next