He whirled on Morgan.
“How about it, bar-keep, is this the dead shot
you was spillin’ so many words about?”
Dan, as if he could not understand the broad insult,
merely smiled at him with marvellous good nature.
“Keep away from him, stranger,” warned
Morgan. “Jest because he rode your hoss
you ain’t got a cause to hunt trouble with him.
He’s been taught not to fight.”
Silent, still looking Dan over with insolent eyes,
replied: “He sure sticks to his daddy’s
lessons. Nice an’ quiet an’ house
broke, ain’t he? In my part of the country
they dress this kind of a man in gal’s clothes
so’s nobody’ll ever get sore at him an’
spoil his pretty face. Better go home to your
ma. This ain’t any place for you. They’s
men aroun’ here.”
There was another one of those grimly expectant hushes
and then a general guffaw; Dan showed no inclination
to take offence. He merely stared at brawny Jim
Silent with a sort of childlike wonder.
“All right,” he said meekly, “if
I ain’t wanted around here I figger there ain’t
any cause why I should stay. You don’t figger
to be peeved at me, do you?”
The laughter changed to a veritable yell of delight.
Even Silent smiled with careless contempt.
“No, kid,” he answered, “if I was
peeved at you, you’d learn it without askin’
questions.”
He turned slowly away.
“Maybe I got jaundice, boys,” he said
to the crowd, “but it seems to me I see something
kind of yellow around here!”
The delightful subtlety of this remark roused another
side-shaking burst of merriment. Dan shook his
head as if the mystery were beyond his comprehension,
and looked to Morgan for an explanation. The
saloon-keeper approached him, struggling with a grin.
“It’s all right, Dan,” he said.
“Don’t let ’em rile you.”
“You ain’t got any cause to fear that,”
said Silent, “because it can’t be done.”
FOUR IN THE AIR
Dan looked from Morgan to Silent and back again for
understanding. He felt that something was wrong,
but what it was he had not the slightest idea.
For many years old Joe Cumberland had patiently taught
him that the last offence against God and man was to
fight. The old cattleman had instilled in him
the belief that if he did not cross the path of another,
no one would cross his way. The code was perfect
and satisfying. He would let the world alone and
the world would not trouble him. The placid current
of his life had never come to “white waters”
of wrath.
Wherefore he gazed bewildered about him. They
were laughing—they were laughing unpleasantly
at him as he had seen men laugh at a fiery young colt
which struggled against the rope. It was very
strange. They could not mean harm. Therefore
he smiled back at them rather uncertainly. Morgan
slapped at his shoulder by way of good-fellowship and
to hearten him, but Dan slipped away under the extended
hand with a motion as subtle and swift as the twist
of a snake when it flees for its hole. He had
a deep aversion for contact with another man’s
body. He hated it as the wild horse hates the
shadow of the flying rope.
