They'll hold her for a witness--not that
they'd have to, 'cause she'll stay on her own hook. Now what's the use
of them bein' took down to Benton an' stuck in jail? Drink up, an'
have another."
"Not none," agreed Curly, as he measured out his liquor to an imaginary
line half-way up the glass. "But how'd you figger to fix it?"
"Well," answered the Texan, as his lips twisted into their peculiar
smile; "we might get the right bunch together an' go down to the
wool-warehouse an' save the grand jury the trouble."
The other stared at him in amazement: "You mean bust him out?"
Tex laughed: "Sure. Lord! Won't it be fun seein' Sam Moore puttin' up
a scrap to save his prisoner?"
"But, how'd we git away with him? All Sam w'd do is git a posse an'
take out after him an' they'd round him up 'fore he got to Three-mile.
Or if we went along we'd git further but they'd git us in the end an'
then we'd be in a hell of a fix!"
"Your head don't hurt you none, workin' it that way, does it?" grinned
Tex. "I done thought it all out. We'll get the boys an' slip down to
the warehouse an' take the pilgrim out an' slip a noose around his neck
an' set him on a horse an' ride out of town a-cussin' him an'
a-swearin' to lynch him. He won't know but what we aim to hang him to
the first likely cottonwood, an' we'll have a lot of fun with him.
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