McDonald was too interested to stop, now. He raced to the top of the rise, his gun presented, ready for shooting, expecting to see the flash of guns as he broke the sky-line. Instead, he saw the men running for Tex's dug-out, and noticed that still another fellow was already there, pacing about, like a picket, with a gun.
McDonald did not take time to guess at their plans, but kept straight after them, supposing his companion-in-law was following. The men did not pause when they reached the house, but made for a half-built log stable, which formed a sort of pen, and leaping into it put their guns through the spaces between the logs and yelled at McDonald to stop, swearing they would kill him if he came any further.
A brave man is not necessarily a rash man, and to establish bravery it is not necessary to throw oneself in front of a moving train or to charge alone a half-finished log stable full of outlaws who poke their Winchesters through the cracks at you and call you names. McDonald discovered now that his partner was not with him, or anywhere in the neighborhood, and he concluded to stop and negotiate. One might get an outlaw or two through the cracks, but on the whole it didn't seem the part of wisdom to play the game in that way.
He checked his speed when he was about sixty yards from the fort, though he continued to advance in a leisurely walk, talking persuasively meantime.
"Now you fellers better have some sense," he said. "You're going up against the United States law, and even if you killed me it wouldn't make any difference. I've got a posse coming that would be right down on you anyhow. Besides you'd have the United States army after you, and they'd take you and hang you for murder. I only want two out of your bunch anyway, this time; that's all I got warrants for, and maybe none of you are the right ones. You'd better come out and let me look you over."
The men swore they would do nothing of the sort, and if he came a step further they would kill him.
McDonald slackened his pace a bit—some nervous man's gun might go off by accident. He could talk very well from where he was.
"Oh, pshaw!" he said. "You fellers wouldn't kill a kitten. Six of you men behind breastworks to get away from one. Come out where I can look at you. What kind of men are you, anyway?"
"Where's your partner?" called the outlaws.
"You see him, way up yonder, don't you?" Bill Jess said quaintly—"on that hill. I haven't got a rope on him; I couldn't bring him along unless he'd come. You-all are actin' mighty sorry the way you're doin'. Come out of there now, and quit this foolishness."