I'm not. I never was in that state."
"Not funny atall," replied the other, with a laugh. "Leastaways not to Smoky hyar. Haw! Haw! You shore have the look of a Texan."
"Hope that's not against me here in Utah."
"Jest contrary, I'd say," rejoined Mac.
Jeff Bridges, a sturdy, tow-headed man of forty or thereabouts, probably once had been a farmer or a villager. He had a bluff, hearty manner, and seemed not to pry under the surface.
"Glad Hank took you on," he said. "We need one cattleman in this outfit, an' that's no joke."
Sparrowhawk Latimer, the third of the four, greatly resembled a horse thief Wall had once seen hanged--the same beaked nose, the same small sleek head, the same gimlet eyes of steel.
"Jim Wall, eh, from the Wind River country," he said. "Been through thar, years ago. Must be populated now. It wasn't a healthy place then."
"Lots of ranchers, riders--and sheriffs," returned Jim, easily.
"That's why I rode on."
"Wal, them articles is scarce hyar. Utah is wild yet, except over east in the Mormon valleys."
Hays had said to Slocum, the fourth member of this quartet, "Smoky, you an' Wall shore ought to make a pair to draw to."
"You mean a pair to draw on," retorted the other. He was slight, wiry, freckled of face and hands, with a cast in one of his light, cold-blue eyes.
"Hell, no!" snorted the robber, in a way to fetch a laugh from his men. "Not ON! . . . Smoky, do you recollect thet gambler, Stud Smith, who works the stage towns an' is somethin' of a gun- slinger?"
"I ain't forgot him."
"Wal, we set in a poker game with him one night. I was lucky.
Stud took his losin' to heart, an' he shore tried to pick a fight.
First he was goin' to draw on me, then shifted to Jim. An' damn if Jim didn't bluff him out of throwin' a gun."
"How?"
"Jim just said for Stud not to draw, as there wasn't a man livin' who could set at a table an' beat him to a gun."
"Most obligin' an' kind of you, Wall," remarked Smoky, with sarcasm, as he looked Jim over with unsatisfied eyes. "If you was so all-fired certain of thet, why'd you tip him off?"
"I never shoot a man just because the chance offers," rejoined Jim, coldly.
There was a subtle intimation in this, probably not lost upon Slocum. The greatest of gunmen were quiet, soft-spoken, sober individuals who never sought quarrels. They were few in number compared with the various types of would-be killers met with on the ranges and in the border towns. Jim knew that his reply would make an enemy, even if Slocum were not instinctively one on sight.
There was no help for these things, and self-preservation could scarcely be felt by men like Slocum. Like a weasel he sniffed around Jim.
"You don't, eh?" he queried. "Wal, I work on the opposite principle. Reckon I'll live longer. . . . Wall, you strike me unfavorable."
"Thanks for being honest, if not complimentary," returned Jim. "I can't strike everybody favorably, that's sure."
Hays swore at his lieutenant. "Unfavorable, huh? Now why the hell do you have to pop up with a dislike for him?"
"I didn't say it was dislike. Just unfavorable. No offense meant."
"Aw, buffalo chips!" ejaculated Hays, in disgust. "You can't be pards with a man who strikes you unfavorable."
"I have been, up to the limit."
"Smoky, I won't have no grudges in this outfit. I've got the biggest deal on I ever worked out. There's got to be harmony among us."
"Hank, you're in your dotage. Harmony among a bunch of grown men, all hard, bitter, defeated outlaws? Bah!"
"Smoky, because you're an outlaw doesn't make me one, or Happy or Brad or Mac or any other of us, unless Jim here. He hasn't confided in me yet."
"I'm no outlaw," declared Jim, coolly.
"It's a little matter thet'll soon be corrected. This Englishman has money enough to fetch the law out on this border. There's your mistake, Hank. I've been ag'in' this deal an' I'll stay ag'in' it."
"Same here," interposed Lincoln.
"Wal, we don't agree," said Hays, calmly. "An' thet's nothin'.
But
"Not funny atall," replied the other, with a laugh. "Leastaways not to Smoky hyar. Haw! Haw! You shore have the look of a Texan."
"Hope that's not against me here in Utah."
"Jest contrary, I'd say," rejoined Mac.
Jeff Bridges, a sturdy, tow-headed man of forty or thereabouts, probably once had been a farmer or a villager. He had a bluff, hearty manner, and seemed not to pry under the surface.
"Glad Hank took you on," he said. "We need one cattleman in this outfit, an' that's no joke."
Sparrowhawk Latimer, the third of the four, greatly resembled a horse thief Wall had once seen hanged--the same beaked nose, the same small sleek head, the same gimlet eyes of steel.
"Jim Wall, eh, from the Wind River country," he said. "Been through thar, years ago. Must be populated now. It wasn't a healthy place then."
"Lots of ranchers, riders--and sheriffs," returned Jim, easily.
"That's why I rode on."
"Wal, them articles is scarce hyar. Utah is wild yet, except over east in the Mormon valleys."
Hays had said to Slocum, the fourth member of this quartet, "Smoky, you an' Wall shore ought to make a pair to draw to."
"You mean a pair to draw on," retorted the other. He was slight, wiry, freckled of face and hands, with a cast in one of his light, cold-blue eyes.
"Hell, no!" snorted the robber, in a way to fetch a laugh from his men. "Not ON! . . . Smoky, do you recollect thet gambler, Stud Smith, who works the stage towns an' is somethin' of a gun- slinger?"
"I ain't forgot him."
"Wal, we set in a poker game with him one night. I was lucky.
Stud took his losin' to heart, an' he shore tried to pick a fight.
First he was goin' to draw on me, then shifted to Jim. An' damn if Jim didn't bluff him out of throwin' a gun."
"How?"
"Jim just said for Stud not to draw, as there wasn't a man livin' who could set at a table an' beat him to a gun."
"Most obligin' an' kind of you, Wall," remarked Smoky, with sarcasm, as he looked Jim over with unsatisfied eyes. "If you was so all-fired certain of thet, why'd you tip him off?"
"I never shoot a man just because the chance offers," rejoined Jim, coldly.
There was a subtle intimation in this, probably not lost upon Slocum. The greatest of gunmen were quiet, soft-spoken, sober individuals who never sought quarrels. They were few in number compared with the various types of would-be killers met with on the ranges and in the border towns. Jim knew that his reply would make an enemy, even if Slocum were not instinctively one on sight.
There was no help for these things, and self-preservation could scarcely be felt by men like Slocum. Like a weasel he sniffed around Jim.
"You don't, eh?" he queried. "Wal, I work on the opposite principle. Reckon I'll live longer. . . . Wall, you strike me unfavorable."
"Thanks for being honest, if not complimentary," returned Jim. "I can't strike everybody favorably, that's sure."
Hays swore at his lieutenant. "Unfavorable, huh? Now why the hell do you have to pop up with a dislike for him?"
"I didn't say it was dislike. Just unfavorable. No offense meant."
"Aw, buffalo chips!" ejaculated Hays, in disgust. "You can't be pards with a man who strikes you unfavorable."
"I have been, up to the limit."
"Smoky, I won't have no grudges in this outfit. I've got the biggest deal on I ever worked out. There's got to be harmony among us."
"Hank, you're in your dotage. Harmony among a bunch of grown men, all hard, bitter, defeated outlaws? Bah!"
"Smoky, because you're an outlaw doesn't make me one, or Happy or Brad or Mac or any other of us, unless Jim here. He hasn't confided in me yet."
"I'm no outlaw," declared Jim, coolly.
"It's a little matter thet'll soon be corrected. This Englishman has money enough to fetch the law out on this border. There's your mistake, Hank. I've been ag'in' this deal an' I'll stay ag'in' it."
"Same here," interposed Lincoln.
"Wal, we don't agree," said Hays, calmly. "An' thet's nothin'.
But
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