“But you haven’t been looking at Mars for perhaps three hours,” Joshua reminded him. “Bill, you can never understand. Let him out, and let him get on his horse and go. But you stay a little. I’m kind of lonesome, I find. You’ll enjoy looking at Mars just now, for he’s very close to the earth. Look for ten minutes, then maybe you’ll understand me better. Maybe I’m a visionary fool, but Mars will help you to decide on that. And—and I’d like to talk with you a little after he’s gone.”
California Bill rose briskly to his feet. “You’re th’ doctor,” he said. “An’ I’ve always found ye sensible.” He opened the door. “Come out here, Wolfgang,” he ordered. “Ye get only a dishonorable discharge from these here mountains that ye been stinkin’ up too long.”
Wolfgang came out hesitatingly, and Bill led forward the borrowed horse that he had ridden.
Bill stood beside him as he set a foot in the stirrup to mount, and then he ordered:
“Don’t move, fella. Keep that position till I think a minute.”
The gambler did as he was bidden, for his wrist still ached.
Then suddenly Bill drew back his right foot for a vigorous kick—a kick of supreme contempt, about the greatest insult the West can offer. He lowered the foot, drew it back again. And then once more both feet were stationary on the ground.
“No,” he said thoughtfully, “ye’re right, Tony. What’s th’ use? Go on, Slim! Get on that caballo an’ beat it fast as ye c’n ramble. Keep goin’ an’ goin’ an’ goin’, an’ never come West ag’in. Tony an’ me, we’re goin’ in an’ look at Mars. We’re men, we are—we’re big. We got no time to fool with you. Beat it, fella, before I change my mind an’ kick th’ stuffin’ outa ye jes’ f’r luck.”
For several minutes the two friends listened in silence to the click of Wolfgang’s mount as it stumbled down the rocky trail. Then all was still again, and they turned and entered the observatory.
“Tony,” Bill began.