Every one took a drink, Jim too; for her sake he would do as Hawkins
wished. It would be the quickest way to end this part of the business.
The serious end of it would follow when they were alone.
Suddenly Cash, whose last two drinks were rendering him more offensive,
and who was determined to annoy Sir John as well as Jim, said, "Gents,
to the success of the Boers."
To the crowd it was a foolish toast; it meant nothing to them. But they
had hardly begun to toss off their drinks when there came a crack of
glass, as Sir John Applegate threw his tumbler on the floor and said,
"No, I'll be damned."
Cash turned on him with an imprecation, and started to cover him with
his gun. This unexpected diversion was the chance that Jim had been
looking for. In an instant he had thrown his untasted liquor into Cash
Hawkins's face. It blinded Cash. Involuntarily he fumbled with his
guns, and in an instant Jim had thrust his revolver into Cash's side.
There was a moment of pandemonium as Cash's imprecations filled the air.
The men at the door started forward, but they had to pay for the
moment's lowering of their guns. Big Bill and Jim's men had been
eagerly watching their opportunity, and speedily covered Cash's gang.
"Put your hands up quick," Jim ordered.
Cash, with visible reluctance, complied. There was a suppressed madness
of excitement in Jim's voice as he said to Sir John Applegate: "Oblige
me by relieving the gentleman of his guns; it will tire him to hold it
up there too long." Sir John obeyed. It was a critical moment--one
never knew which way a crowd in a saloon would veer, and there might
have been a riot if Cash had been more popular. As it happened there
was a laugh at Jim's words. Sir John reached for the guns. Cash, gaunt
and terrible to look at, stood still while they were taken from him. The
pressure of the muzzle at his side caused him to loosen his final
reluctant finger.
"Delighted, charmed, I'm sure," Sir John agreed.
Jim, still covering Cash with his gun, drove him up against the bar.
Those of the crowd who knew him realized that they were seeing a new man
in the Englishman. He was conscious of Diana's luminous face back of
him, of Henry's gray countenance close to her as he quietly expostulated
with her. The crowd swung close to the new boss. This was what they
wanted. They believed he would prove the new leader for Maverick.
"Every man's hands on the bar," the Englishman called, and he and his
men covered the crowd at these words. "I ask you," Jim quietly said,
"to drink with me to the President of the United States."
Men who had cursed their President, defied the laws of the country that
had elected him, and who were fugitives from the justice of their land
were touched by the simple and tactful toast. All glasses were raised.
They were about to drink, but the first sentence was followed by the
words:
"And to her Gracious Majesty, the Queen."
This time Jim stood ready to shoot; but it was unnecessary--the crowd
echoed the toast. Why not? The Englishman was right. Their
country--then his. Not a bad sort. So the murmurs went around.
Suddenly Hawkins said, as he watched Sir John:
"Your little glass-eyed friend don't drink."
Sir John's glass was still untouched.
"Oh yes, he's goin' to drink," Shorty cut in, as he crossed to the group
near the table.
"Ain't nobody excused on a formal show-down like this!" Bill called.
But Sir John, carried away by indignation at Jim's daring to propose
that toast to the country and the sovereign he believed Jim had so
dishonored, vehemently answered:
"I'm an officer in her Majesty's service, and, by Jove! I won't drink
with a man who fled from England after robbing the widows and orphans of
the Queen's soldiers, and you can do what you jolly well like about it."
All eyes were turned on Jim. Would he kill the stranger? Henry held
Diana by the arm. Jim grew pale under the strain of the moment's
intensity.
Cash was the first to speak. "What do you say to that?" he drawled,
after a prolonged whistle.
But Jim kept his eyes fastened on Sir John. "If I were the man you
think me," he said, "you would never have finished that sentence. You
have evidently mistaken me for some one else. My name is Jim Carston,
and I never took a penny that did not belong to me."
Even to Sir John the words rang true, but he had lost all control--he
was determined to avenge the old score of dishonor against his regiment.
"Why, confound your impudence, there stands your cousin, Henry Kerhill!"
The crowd swung around. This was the moment--it had been a day for
Maverick. What were they now to learn of Cash's "angel-face"?
Henry crossed to Jim and faced him. There was a pause. "Yes," he
answered, with as much nonchalance as he could assume, "I believe the
gentleman does bear a certain bald resemblance to the man you mean, but
it is evidently a case of mistaken identity." Diana's eyes were
following him with their mute appeal. He continued: "You will observe,
Sir John, that I drank the toast. I trust you will not refuse to drink
to our Queen with these gentlemen in a foreign country."
The ranchmen liked these Englishmen. They were being treated with great
consideration; the little one was amusing but he was all right. So ran
the verdict of the Long Horn saloon.
Sir John Applegate stood unconvinced. Henry's eyes were fastened on
him, and he read there something that held a reason for his denial. At
all events he had been most unwise--he knew that now--and he must, for
Diana's sake, undo his hasty words.
"Well, of course," he began, as he realized that further comment would
be futile, "I was under the impression that I hadn't had a drink--not
one, by Jove! Well, I must be squiffy." The cow-punchers laughed.
"Here's," he finished, "to her Gracious Majesty the Queen--God bless
her!"
Big Bill, who would have been an arch-diplomat in another sphere of
life, said:
"Not forgettin' his Gracious Majesty the President, you know."
Sir John rose to the occasion. "Oh, quite so--his Royal Highness the
President--God bless him!"
The men slapped one another in appreciation of the joke. Sir John tried
to drink the whiskey of the country, but with a sigh he said, after the
first taste, "Say, as I must drink, please make it Scotch."
During the scene in the saloon the car had drawn down the line and was
shunting up and down the rails in a way comprehensible only to the
powers that control an engine. Henry apprehensively looked towards the
car, and went to meet Dan, whom he could see at the farther end of the
platform. The meeting with Jim had been painful, and he was almost at
his wits' end. As he could not force Diana's prompt withdrawal, he
would fetch Dan to insist upon the passengers' return to the car.
Jim had seen Henry slip away unobserved. Would Diana and Sir John never
go? He could see that the excitement was beginning to tell on Diana.
Suddenly she swayed--yet he dared not go near her.
"Bill," he called, "the lady looks as though she were going to faint."
Sir John and Bill started towards Diana, but Bill was the first to reach
her. He quickly grasped her by the arm and steadied her.