"There's where he is, a twenty-to-one shot! He'll lay quiet, likely,
thinkin' we'll miss him. Brush growin' over both the cave mouths,
Hargis says, so you might pass right by if you didn't know where to
look. These short nights he couldn't never get clear on foot. Thirty
mile to the next water--we'd find his tracks and catch him. But he
might make a break to get away, at that. Never can tell about a he-man
like that. We can't take no chances. We'll pick a bite of supper and
then we surround that hill, quiet as mice, and close up on him. He
can't see us to shoot if we're fool enough to make any noise. Come
daylight, we'll have him cornered, every man behind a bowlder. If he
shows up he's our meat; if he don't we'll starve him out."

"And suppose he isn't there?" said Creagan. "What would we look like,
watching an empty cave two or three days?"

"What do we look like now? Give you three guesses," retorted Nueces.
"And how'd we look rushin' that empty cave if it didn't happen to be
empty? Excuse me! I'd druther get three grand heehaws and a tiger
for bein' ridiculous than to have folks tiptoe by a-whisperin': 'How
natural he looks!' I been a pretty tough old bird in my day--but goin'
up a tunnel after Kitty Foy ain't my idea of foresight."

"Some man--some good man, too--will have to stay here and stand
guard on the Major and this fresh guy, Pringle," said the sheriff
thoughtfully. "He'll get his slice of the money, of course."

"You'll find a many glad to take that end of the job; for," said
Nueces River, "it is in my wise old noddle some of us are going to be
festerin' in Abraham's bosom before we earn that reward money. Leave
Applegate--he's in bad shape for climbing anyway; bruise on his belly