"Aw! That ain't news. He's started back after them again. Left jes' a
little while ago. I saw him go--him 'n' Farnum 'n' Charley Hymer 'n' Hal
Yarnell 'n' Mr. Bellamy."
"Bet they git 'em."
"Bet they don't."
"Aw, course they'll git 'em, Tom."
The other youngster assumed an air of mystery. He swelled his chest and
strutted a step or two nearer. Urbane condescension oozed from him.
"Say, Jimmie. C'n you keep a secret?"
"Sure. Course I can."
"Won't ever snitch?"
"Cross my heart."
"Well, then--I'm Black MacQueen, the captain of the Roaring Fork bad
men."
"You!" Incredulity stared from Jimmie's bulging eyes.
"You betcher. I'm him, here in disguise as a kid."
The magnificent boldness of this claim stole Jimmie's breath for an
instant. He was two years younger than his friend, but he did not quite
know whether to applaud or to jeer. Before he could make up his mind a
light laugh rippled to them from behind the vines on the Lee porch.
The disguised outlaw and his friend were startled. Both fled swiftly, with
all the pretense of desperate necessity young conspirators love to
assume.
Melissy went into the house and the laughter died from her lips. She knew
that either her father's posse or that of Jack Flatray would come into
touch with the outlaws eventually. When the clash came there would be a
desperate battle. Men would be killed. She prayed it might not be one of
those for whom she cared most.