voice. It was coming out just the way he had calculated it from the beginning.
"He may kill the darned fool!" Rawlins protested.
"Sure," Tippie replied, quite pleased by the prospect, it appeared.
"Don't you think we ought to do something? I'd hate to see anything serious happen to him."
"I ain't got no gun," Tippie replied, his conscience entirely untroubled.
"I'll go back and get some guns, if you say the word," Rawlins offered.
"It'd be all over before you got back. Let him go."
Very likely it would be so, Rawlins knew. Peck was out of sight over the first hill, the fence-rider cutting after him like a streak.
"Anyway, I think I'll go in there and whoop around a little," Rawlins proposed, making a tentative start. "That might split his attention and give old Peck a chance for his neck."
"If you go, you'll go afoot," Tippie said, stern and threatening. "One horse is all I'm goin' to risk on a fool to-day."
"You're the doctor," Rawlins yielded. "But it looks a little raw."
"What did you suppose was goin' to happen?" Tippie inquired.
"I didn't believe the darned fool'd try it."
"Well, neither did I."
"If he comes through with his hide whole he'll think he's won the girl. She'll never get rid of him then."
"He won't be half through," Tippie growled.
