"I certainly should," said the man.
"It was because he had no paper to bring. Oh, he's a bright fellow; he's a second cousin of mine, and I can put myself in his place and just see how he reasoned about this matter."
"Don't wait, but go right in and tell us all about it," said the impatient Badger, whose admiration for his employer was rising every moment.
"Why, he reasoned that if he came here without Tom Edwards' receipt—which he knew had no existence—that the gentlemen of the vigilance committee would make short work of his father——"
"And he was as right as right can be in that guess," interrupted Badger.
"But," continued Shirley, "being a keen young fellow, he made up his mind that nothing would be done to his father if he stayed away. He believed the vigilantes would wait for several days, as they've already done, and that by the end of that time their anger would go down; they would look more lightly on the murder of poor Tom Edwards—and that would be the last of it. But talking is mighty dry work; step up to the bar, boys, and have a drink with me."
Like other invitations of the same kind, from the same source, this one was promptly accepted, the effect being to convince nearly every man that there was no getting away from Frank Shirley's reasoning.
Before the meeting broke up that night, which it did not do till a late hour, it was firmly decided that the trial of Mr. Willett and Hank Tims should take place the next day, which being Sunday would enable every one at Hurley's Gulch to be present.
In addition to its effect on the unfortunate men, the foregoing conversation serves admirably to show how a cunning and malicious man can pervert facts to suit himself, and while making them seem most like truth to the reason, have them exactly opposite to it in fact.
Unobserved by the crowd in the bar, Collins had overheard this conversation, and the conclusion to which a majority of the vigilantes had come.