“The kid’ll swing around,” Lester said hoarsely. Too hoarsely, Teasle thought. Reluctant he turned, worried about his men. They were only seven now, tightfaced, fingering their rifles, looking next to useless. All except Shingleton. “I’m telling you the kid will swing around,” Lester said. The knee was ripped out of his pants. “He’ll swing up there behind us.”
