"Right you are, Mr. Neil."
York whirled, revolver in hand, but the man who had risen from
behind the big boulder beside the trail was resting both hands on
the rock before him.
"You're alone, are you?" demanded York.
"I am."
Neil's revolver slid back into its holster. "Mornin', Val. What's
new down at Tucson?" he said amiably.
"I understood I was to meet you alone, Mr. Leroy," said the
sheriff quickly, his blue-gray eyes on the former chief.
"That was the agreement, Mr. Collins, but it seems the boys are
on the anxious seat about these little socials of ours. They've
embraced the notion that I'm selling them. I hated to have them
harassed with doubts, so I invited the new majordomo of the ranch
to come with me. Of cou'se, if you object--"
"I don't object in the least, but I want him to understand the
agreement. I've got a posse waiting at Eldorado Springs, and as
soon as I get back there we take the trail after you. Bucky
O'Connor is at the head of the posse."
York grinned. "We'll be in Sonora then, Val. Think I'm going to
wait and let you shoot off my other fingers?"
Collins fished from his vest pocket the papers he had taken from
Scott hat and from Webster.
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