“He’s only giving you taffy, men!” they called. “Don’t believe what the kid says. All he wants is to hoodwink us, ’till the force from the ranch gets within striking distance. Then it’ll be bullets instead of soft words!”
But these few were quickly made to understand they were in the minority, and that the crowd was ready to give Frank the chance he asked for.
“How about the boss—Riley?” shouted one.
“Yes, we never can work under him again, and there’s no use talkin’,” cried another.
“Wait!” said Frank. “Perhaps there may be a change here. Perhaps my father has another position on his ranch for Mr. Riley, and you may have a new foreman! How would Sandy McCoy suit you, men?” and he laid a hand on the shoulder of the brawny young engineer as he spoke.
At this the shouts that rang out were deafening. Doubtless Gustave Riley, entrenched behind the barricade he had erected at the engine house of the mining camp, was sorely puzzled by the strange sounds that came to his ears. He might have imagined that the mutineers were getting ready to use dynamite, in order to blow every building in the place to pieces, to satisfy their desire for revenge.
Frank held up his hand to ask for further silence, and when he could be heard went on:
“Depend on it, men, everything is going to be made right. Stick by us, and there will be no cause for any further trouble. If you had sent a committee to my father before going to extremes all this might have been avoided, because he has the name of being a square man. Are we going to be friends, men?”
Like magic the temper of the mob had changed. Those rough men had come out filled with anger toward Colonel Haywood and his entire family. Now they had swung around to the other extreme. Nearly to a man they pressed forward to shake hands with the saddle boys. Even those who had appeared to be ugly toward Frank thought best to hide their real feelings and go with the tide.
“Now, what do you think, Sandy?” asked Frank, more than a little excited by the success that had attended his peace move.