They 're a foxy set, and there 's something back that we don't know."
"What could they do?" put in Jud. "There 's no more ferries."
"But there 's a bridge," said I.
Ump, standing stock still in the floor, stumbled like a horse struck over the knees. Jud bolted out of the house on a dead run. We followed him to the stable, Ump galloping like a great rabbit.
We flung open the stable door, thrust the bits into the horses' mouths, and slapped on our saddles. It was murky, but we needed no light for business like this. We knew every part of the horse as a man knows his face, and we knew every strap and buckle.
Ump sat on his mare, waiting until we should be ready, kicking his stirrups with impatience, but his tongue, strangely enough, quiet. He turned his mare across the road before us when we were in our saddles.
"Jud," he said, "don't go off half-cocked. An' if there 's hell raised, look out for Quiller. I 'll stay here an' bring up the cattle as soon as it 's light." Then he pulled his mare out
