Curtis minutely studied the crowd, which was made up very largely of
reckless young men--cowboys from all over the range, together with the
loafers and gamblers of the cow-towns. The sheriff's deputies were all
well to the front, but were quiet; they seemed to be a little abashed by
the gaze of the women to whom they were indebted for their dinner of
yesterday. Each member of the gang was burdened with ammunition and
carried both rifle and revolver.
The sheriff dismounted and handed a paper to Curtis, who took plenty of
time to read it. It was manifestly bogus, manufactured for use as a
bluff, and had not been properly sworn out; but to dispute it would be
to anger the cattlemen. There was only one chance for delay.
"Very well," he said, at last. "This warrant calls for two of the head
men among the Tetongs. Of course, I understand your motives. You do not
intend to charge these chiefs with the crime, you only wish to force the
tribe to yield some one else to your vengeance. In face of such a force
as this of yours, Mr. Sheriff, I can only yield, though I deny your
right to lay hand on one of my charges. I do all this under pressure.
If your men will retire a little I will call a messenger and communicate
with the chiefs named, and ask--"
Yarpe glared. "Communicate hell! Sheriff, say the word and we'll go and
get 'em."
Curtis fixed a calm gaze upon him. "You are a brave man, Mr. Yarpe, but
you'll need all your resolution when you charge up that hill in the face
of those desperate warriors." As he swept his arm out towards the west
all eyes were turned on the swarming mass of mounted Tetongs. The women
had moved higher, and were halted just on the eastern brow of the high
ridge, behind and to the right of the fighting men. "Now what will you
do, Mr. Sheriff?" pursued Curtis; "act with me through the head men, or
make your demand of the whole tribe?"
A dispute arose among the crowd. A few shouted, noisily, "Say the word
and we'll sweep the greasy devils off the earth." But the larger number,
like the sheriff's posse of the day before, found it not easy to overawe
this quiet soldier.
Calvin harangued the leader. "No, I will not button my lip," he shouted
again, confronting Yarpe, "for you nor no other man. You let the sheriff
and the Captain fix this thing up. What are you in this thing for,
anyhow? You don't own a foot of land nor a head o' stock. You're nothing
but a bum! You can't get trusted for a pound of tobacco. Nice man to
lead a mob--"
"Shut him up, Bill," shouted one fellow.
"Cal's right," called another.
"Don't let 'em fool ye, Bill; we come fer a redskin, and we'll have him
or burn the town."
Calvin had a revolver in each hand, and on his face was a look that
meant war.
Curtis called to Lawson. "Take the women in, quick!" He feared shooting
among the leaders of the mob. "Don't shoot, Calvin. Keep the peace."
With tears of impotent rage filling her eyes, Elsie retreated towards
the office under Lawson's care. Curtis stepped to the side of the
leader. "Silence your gang," he said.
Yarpe raised his bellowing voice. "Keep quiet, there! I'll settle this
thing in a minute."
"Keep back!" commanded the sheriff.
The crowd fell back a little, with Calvin crowding them hard, revolver
in hand. "No more funny business with me," he said, and death blazed
from his eyes. "Get back!"
Quiet having been restored, the sheriff, Curtis, and Yarpe were revealed
in animated argument. Curtis was talking against time--every moment was
precious.
"If you give in, your chances for re-election ain't worth a
leatherette," Yarpe said to the sheriff.
"You crazy fool! You wouldn't charge that hill?" asked the sheriff.
"That's what I would, and that's what the boys come for."
"But what good would it do?"
"It would learn these red devils a lesson they wouldn't forget, and it
would make you an' me the most popular men in the county. If you don't
do it, you're dead as the hinges of hell."
"If you charge that hill, some of you will stay there," put in Curtis.
Yarpe turned and roared: "Boys, the sheriff has weakened. Will you
follow me?"
"We will!" shouted the reckless majority.
At this precise moment, while looking over the sheriff's head towards
the pinon-spotted hill to the west, Curtis caught the gleam of something
white bobbing down the hill. It disappeared, but came into sight lower
down, a white globe based in a splash of blue. It was a white helmet,
topping the uniform of a cavalry officer. A sudden emotion seized Curtis
by the throat--his heart warmed, swelled big in his bosom. Oh, the good
old color! Now he could see the gauntleted gloves, the broad shoulders,
the easy seat of blessed old Jack Maynard as he ambled peacefully across
the flat.
"Look there!" he cried, turning to the group inside the gate, his finger
pointing like a pistol. His voice rang out joyous as a morning bugle,
and the girls thrilled with joy.