“Well,” said Allan, with a sigh of relief, “they won’t be able to find many here to help them, and that’s a blessing!”
“I wouldn’t be too sure of that,” said Stanley; “but I don’t think there’ll be any trouble here—not for a few days, anyway.”
“A few days?” echoed Allan. “What do you mean by that?”
“I mean,” answered Stanley, slowly, “that I don’t like the looks of things. There’s too many strangers in town.”
“Too many strangers?”
“Yes—too many strangers. Why, the saloons are full of the toughest lookin’ lot of men you ever saw. Where’d they come from—that’s what I want to know—and what’s their business—and who’s payin’ for their whiskey?”
“I don’t understand you yet, Stanley,” said Allan, a little impatiently. “Tell me straight out what you’re afraid of.”
“I’m afraid that them fellers are bein’ brought in here to cause trouble,” answered Stanley, bluntly. “And I believe that Bassett’s at the bottom of the whole thing. And furthermore I believe he’s got that little devil of a Hummel helpin’ him.”
“Hummel? Have you seen him?”
“Seen him! I guess not! If I did, I’d have him behind the bars so quick ’twould make his head swim. But I’ve got to have some more men, and the trouble is that the more I get, the more danger there is of gettin’ some strike sympathizers among them. I think I’d better patrol the yards and track clear through to the city limits.”