"These yere fixings will come in handy pretty soon, I reckon," he
remarked significantly, and stood quietly on the edge of the rock,
holding a powerful field-glass to his eyes.
"They 've brought ther night-shift up ter the top," he commented
finally, "an they 're 'rousin' them others outer ther bunk-house. Hell
'll be piping hot presently. 'Bout half them fellers are a-totin'
guns, too. Ah, I thought so--thar goes a lad horseback,
hell-bent-fer-'lection down the trail, huntin' after more roughs, I
reckon. Well, ther more ther merrier, as ther ol' cat said when she
counted her kittens. Darned ef they ain't got a reg'lar skirmish line
thrown out 'long ther gulch yonder. Yer bet they mean business for
shore, Stutter, ol' boy."
Brown, deliberately engaged in pouring the coffee, contented himself
with a slight grunt, and a quick glance in the direction indicated.
Hicks slowly closed his glasses, and seated himself comfortably on the
edge of the rock. Winston, already eating, but decidedly anxious,
glanced at the two emotionless faces with curiosity.
"The situation does n't seem to worry either of you very much," he said
at last. "If you really expect an attack from those fellows over
there, is n't it about time we were arranging for some defence?"
Hicks looked over at him across the rim of his tin cup.
"Defence? Hell! here 's our defence--four o' us, countin' Mike."
"Where is Mike?"
"Oh, out yonder in ther back yard amusin' that Swede Stutter yere
brought in ter him fer a playthin'. Them foreigners seem ter all be
gittin' mighty chummy o' late. Stutter yere is a-takin' up with
Greasers, an' Mike with Swedes. I reckon I 'll have ter be lookin'
round fer an Injun, er else play a lone hand purty soon."
Brown, his freckled face hotly flushed, his eyes grown hard, struck the
rock with clinched hand.
"D-d-damn you, B-Bill," he stuttered desperately, his great chest
heaving. "I-I 've had jist 'nough o' th-th-thet sorter talk. Yer
s-s-spit out 'nuther word 'bout her, an' th-th-thar 'll be somethin'
e-else a-doin'."
Old Hicks laughed, his gray goat-beard waggling, yet it was clearly
evident he appreciated the temper of his partner, and realized the
limit of patience.
"Oh, I 'll pass," he confessed genially. "Lord! I hed a touch o' that
same disease oncet myself. But thar ain't no sense in yer fightin' me,
Stutter; I bet yer git practice 'nough arter awhile, 'less them thar
black eyes o' hern be mighty deceivin'. But that thar may keep. Jist
now we 've got a few other p'ints ter consider. You was askin' about
our defence, Mr. Winston, when this yere love-sick kid butted in?"
"Yes."
"Well, it 's ther lay o' ther ground, an' four good rifles. Thet 's
ther whole o' it; them fellers over yonder can't get in, an' I 'm
damned if we kin git out. Whichever party gits tired first is the one
what's goin' ter git licked."