“Stand back there! I’ll settle with this fellow alone.” He held the other fast, his arms as merciless as the grip of a grizzly, and called aloud:
“This is a Lorrigan dance, and the Lorrigans are going to have order. Those of you who brought chips on your shoulders, and whisky to soak the chips in, can drink your whisky and do your fighting among yourselves, off the Lorrigan ranch. We all came here to have fun. There’s music and room to dance, and plenty of chuck and plenty of coffee, and the dance is going right on without any fuss whatever.
“This poor boob here who thinks he wants to fight me just because I’m a Lorrigan, I never saw before. It wouldn’t be a fair fight, because he’s too drunk to do anything but make a fool of himself. There’s nothing to fight about, anyway. A fellow was carrying two cups of boiling hot coffee, and he stubbed his toe, and some one got scalded a little. That’s nothing to break up a dance over. The rest of you heard the noise and jumped at the conclusion there was trouble afoot. There isn’t. I think you all want to go on with the dance and have a good time, except perhaps a few who are drunk. They are at liberty to go off somewhere 161 and beat each other up to their hearts’ content. Come on, now, folks––get your partners for a square dance––and everybody dance!”
His voice had held them listening. His words were not the words of a coward, yet they were a plea for peace, they seemed reasonable even to the half-drunken ones who had been the readiest to fight. The old-time range slogan, “Everybody dance!” sent three or four hurrying to find the girls they wanted. The trouble, it would appear, had ended as suddenly as it had begun and for a moment the tension relaxed.
The drunken one was still cursing, struggling unavailingly to tear himself away from Lance so that he could land a blow. Lance, looking out across the crowd, caught Belle’s glance and nodded toward the schoolhouse. Belle hurried away to find the musicians and set them playing, and a few couples strayed after her. But there were men who stayed, pushing, elbowing to see what would happen when Lance Lorrigan loosened his hold on the Jumpoff man.
Lance did not loosen his hold, however. He saw Tom, Al, three or four Devil’s Tooth men edging up, and sent them a warning shake of his head.
“Who knows this fellow? Where does he belong? I think his friends had better take care of him until he sobers up.”
“We’ll take care of him,” said another stranger, easing up to Lance. “He won’t hurt yuh; he was 162 only foolin’, anyway. Bill Kennedy, he always gits kinda happy when he’s had one or two.”
There was laughter in the crowd. Two or three voices were heard muttering together, and other laughs followed. Some one produced a bottle and offered the pugnacious one a drink. Lance let him go with a contemptuous laugh and went to where the Devil’s Tooth men now stood bunched close together, their backs to the chuck-wagon.
“We’ll have to clean up this crowd, before it’s over,” Al was saying to his father. “Might as well start right in and git ’er over with.”