"Then two horsemen came out of the dusk from Metzal way and they drew up and one of them hailed us. It was Stoney. I never felt so glad in my life. I told what was the matter and, it slipped into my mind all of a sudden, I suggested that we might get a car or two at Metzal. He agreed with me it might be possible and that it was the only way to get through. He sent the other man—it was Jim Lund—racing back to bring the boys up to Metzal and we three rode on to Metzal to see what we could do. Stoney was worried, I think, though he tried not to let me see it.
She stopped and glanced at Stoney.
"I was worried stiff," said Stoney. "Figgered they'd git you unawares. I knew Chinks was a cutthroat lot of devils when they got started—beggin' yore pardon, Quong, an' leavin' you out o' this deal. An' they sure had one big start. We'd have to wait until the boys come from the ranch, though I knew they'd come a runnin'. I told Jim to tell 'em to bring their artillery an' spare ammunition. An' I was doubtful about gittin' cars. Metzal ain't Pioche. An', take it after sundown, every one that owns a flivver is out to hit the breeze.
"But, shucks, I didn't have to worry none with a lady like Miss Mary here, runnin' things. She thought of everything. She coaxed Herron, the stage-driver, into lettin' us have his flivver, though she couldn't promise when we'd bring it back. Bought it for five hundred bucks, he to take his chance of hirin' or buyin' another if we didn't come back by his mornin' trip.
