The men received his news with expressions of rage and vengeance. They had come to admire Hollis for his courage in electing to continue the fight against Dunlavey; they had seen that in spite of his ignorance of the customs of their world he possessed a goodly store of common sense and an indomitable spirit. Yet none of them expressed sympathy, though their faces showed that they felt it. Expressions of sympathy in a case such as this would have been unnecessary and futile. But their expressions of rage showed how the news had affected them. Though they knew that Dunlavey’s forces outnumbered their own they were for striking back immediately. But Norton discouraged this.
“We’re layin’ low for a while,” he said. “Mebbe the boss will get well. If he does he’ll make things mighty interestin’ for Dunlavey–likely he’ll remember who was in the crowd which beat him up. If he dies—” His eyes flashed savagely. “Well, if he dies you boys can go as far as you like an’ I’ll go with you without doin’ any kickin’.”
“What’s goin’ to be done with that noospaper of his’n?” inquired Ace. “You reckon she’ll miss fire till he’s well again?”
Norton’s brows wrinkled; he had not thought of the newspaper. But he realized now that if the paper failed to appear on scheduled time the people in Union County would think that Hollis had surrendered; they would refuse to believe that he had been so badly injured that he could not issue the paper, and Dunlavey would be careful to circulate some sort of a story to encourage this view. Now that Ace had brought the matter to his attention he began to suspect that this had been the reason of the attack on Hollis. That they had not killed him when they had the opportunity, showed that they must have had some purpose other than that of merely desiring to get him out of the way. That they had merely beaten him showed that their wish was only to incapacitate him temporarily. Norton’s eyes flashed with a sudden determination.
“I don’t reckon that the Kicker will miss fire,” he declared; “not if I have to go to Dry Bottom an’ get her out myself!”
Ace eyed him furtively and now spoke with an embarrassed self-consciousness.
“I’ve been considerin’ this here situation ever since you told us about the boss,” he said diffidently, “an’ if you’re goin’ to get that paper out, a little poem or two might help out considerable.”
“Meanin’?” interrogated Norton, his eyelashes flickering.
Ace’s face reddened painfully. “Meanin’ that I’ve got several little pieces which I’ve wrote when I didn’t have anything else to do an’ that I’d be right willin’ to have them put into the Kicker to help fill her up. Some of the boys think they’re right classy.”
Norton looked around at the other men for confirmation of the truth of this modest statement. He caught Lanky’s glance.