"Uncle Sam's orders, and they're backed up by the big 'C' brand."
At these words Shorty and Andy both pulled their guns, and stood ready
to defend Jim's statement. Cash gave a loud shout, then threw himself
against the bar as he screamed to attract the people in the room.
"Gents," he called, "the Young Men's Christian Association is in the
saddle. Say," he wildly went on, "it's goin' to be perfectly sweet in
Maverick. Nick,"--he turned to the bartender, who now wished that
Hawkins would go--"I'll be back for a glass of lemonade." Then he came
to Jim, and, bowing low, he said, with all the venom and malice of his
nature, "And say, angel-face, when I come back you better be prepared to
lead in prayer."
He made a lunge at Jim, but the sharp eyes of his men never left his
hands. Cash gave a wild roar of derisive laughter, flung himself across
the room, turned at the door, pointed to Jim, again laughed wildly, and
then disappeared. Shorty and Andy followed him to the door. Jim,
indifferent, with his back to him, walked to a table at the farther end
of the room.
The place was silent now. Jim knew he had received a direct challenge.
According to the laws of the West, Cash was entitled to get his men
together to meet Jim and his men. Every one in the saloon was on the
alert. The Englishman was not well known there, but from what they had
heard they knew he was courageous. Would he prove it now? If so, it
meant that he would be there when Cash returned. Shorty turned from the
door.
"He'll be back," he said, without looking at Jim.
Jim went on smoking. "Of course," he answered. He deliberately seated
himself at the table and began shuffling the cards.
Then Shorty and the crowd knew that he meant to see the thing through.
It was a quiet way, but, they all agreed, a good way of accepting it.
Shorty exchanged glances with Andy. The boss was of the right sort. A
little more dash would have pleased them better, still--
"Und say," Andy said, "und with his gang." He didn't want the boss to
make too light of the proposition.
But Shorty, who now was sure of Jim, answered for him, "So much the
better, eh? We can clean 'em all up together. Say, boss, what did you
let him make it a matter of Injins fer? You got the sentiment of the
kummunity agin you right from the start. Looks like fightin' for
trifles."
Grouchy, who had the news from Andy, who was now explaining it to Bill,
straddled into a chair as he said, "Yes, it's some dignified to fight
over cattle, but Injins--pshaw!"
Jim knew it was useless to try to explain. Their opinions on these
matters were as separate as the poles; but they were a good sort, and
served him well and faithfully. Personally he did not care for this
proposed fight with Hawkins. He wanted peace--some days when he might
dream and drift and watch the sand plains, when the work was done. The
broils of the saloons, the point of view of the crowd, the honor of the
West really mattered little to him, but for the sake of the boys, and
that their pride in him might not suffer, he often accepted their
definition of the code of life that was followed in Maverick. He knew
how to win them, so he began:
"Well, boys, I don't want to drag you into my quarrel. If you feel that
way about Indians--" He was about to add that he did not, but Shorty
interrupted:
"Pull up, boss; 'tain't fair to make us look as if we were trying to
sneak out of a scrap. It was only the cause of it. You ain't got a
quitter in your gang, and you know it."
"I know it, Shorty." Jim was obliged to laugh at the eager faces of the
three men who stood close to him, like excited children waiting to be
understood.
"Well, don't say anything more about it, will you? Let's--" Shorty put
out his hand.
Jim grasped it. "Let it go at that," Jim finished. "You understand that
you are to leave Cash to me unless more get into the game."
Bill, who had been listening to it all, drew Jim aside. He preferred
peace, but knew that they and Carston's ranch stood marked for the crowd
to jeer at for all time unless they did what was expected of them by the
laws of the cow town, made by its men, not by the government that they
abused.
"Jim"--Bill spoke over his shoulder--"Bud Hardy, the County Sheriff, is
standing just behind you at the bar, and he's particular thick with
Cash. Got to take him into account."
Jim nodded; with his arm through Bill's he crossed to a side entrance
and stood under the porch. He wanted to discuss with Bill what was best
to do. Shorty and Andy stood up against the bar and treated their
particular friends to drinks. They felt it was going to be a red-letter
day for Carston's ranch.
Outside the Overland Limited tooted at intervals, and sent up shrill
whistles, but made no attempt to leave Maverick. One official's
information was denied by the next one. Passengers had come in and had
gone again--some of them frightened, some disgusted by the life of the
saloon. A little farther down the line others of the passengers were
being amused by some Indians who, at the news of the train's stopping,
had hurried to the railroad.
Cash's departure had allowed the place to grow quiet. Even Nick hoped
he would not find his men and return. There was a sudden shunting of
the train, and the rear car moved back in to more direct view of the
saloon. Diana, tired of the wait, had finally persuaded Sir John and
Henry to alight and see the place. They all entered together.
"By Jove, what a rum hole!" Sir John exclaimed.
"Hello, there's a faro-table!" exclaimed Henry.