By this time Zeke and Thomas Jefferson had arrived at the camp and in his
most surly manner the guide turned to the two uninvited guests and said,
"What are you two fellows doing here?"
"We stopped to get something to eat," explained the man with the scar,
who, as usual, was the spokesman.
"Well, you aren't going to get it here," said Zeke sharply. "The thing for
you to do is to vamoose. Get out of here and get out right away! None of
that," added Zeke in a low voice as he saw one of the men reach toward his
hip pocket. "There's going to be no shootin' done here exceptin' I am th'
one to do it."
Zeke, who was a powerful man, now grasped the hands of the man with the
scar and in spite of his efforts twisted his wrists until he compelled him
to drop the weapon which he had drawn from his pocket.
"Leave it there," said Zeke quietly. "It won't do any harm. Now you two
get and don't you wait for me to say it again!"
There was something in Zeke's manner that convinced the two men that it
might be dangerous for them to delay. Glancing hastily at each other they
at once turned from the camp.
When they had gone fifty feet, the smaller man stopped and turned about so
that he once more faced the camp, as he shouted, "You think the game is in
your hands, don't you? Well, you'll have another think.
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