Tex walked over and kicked the gun across the floor. Irish Mike picked it up and handed it to Fred. "I could a' killed you just as easy as I didn't, Guinea," said Tex. "I don't like you an' yore ways. It's just a notion. So don't you stop. An' don't send any o' yore friends. 'No Guineas need apply.' That goes, if I has to Garibaldi yore whole d—n country."
The spectators had filed back to the room and were engaged in audible comments on the justification and accuracy of the shooting, while they busied themselves in the rough surgery which had to serve. To the suggestion that he ought to be taken to the doctor at Wayback, Fred interposed the objection: "No, dake him to Nell's. Mike is a friend mit her."
Pop Snow, attracted by the excitement, stood peering in a window. Twin River crowded the room but Pop's resentment was still warm. A man rode up and stooped from the saddle to look over his shoulder. "Who 's that? What's up?" he asked.
"'T aint nothin'; only Guinea Mike. See th' feller Fanny 's hangin' onto? Well, that's him: Comin' Thirty has notions—an' I ain't never seen better shootin'."
Dave swung down, tied his pony to the rail and went inside to see the new bad-man of Twin River. It had been growing steadily colder during the past few hours; the wind, sweeping in from the west, held a sinister threat, the air a definite chill, and Dave felt he would be none the worse for a little fire-water. Dirty felt it also, but his senile annoyance had merely simmered down, not subsided, and he scurried back to the I-Call for cover until such time as he thought it fitting to go home.
* * * * *
It was very late when Dave turned a tired pony to pasture and entered the three-room cabin of Karl Schatz. The rough exterior gave no indication of the comfort with which the German had surrounded himself. Fur rugs covered the floor of the living-room; the chairs and table had travelled many miles before landing here; a fine sideboard showed several pieces of fair china; mounted horns of various kinds were on the walls, one group being utilized as a gun rack, and between them hung several good paintings. A stove had been removed but in its place smouldered a wood fire, the fireplace jutting out from the wall. When Dave came in Karl sat smoking; on the table beside him lay an open volume of poems. "Vell?" he asked, as Dave dropped into a chair and stretched his legs wearily before him.
"Double Y has got a new bunch o' cattle. Hummers. Bought 'em out of a drove come up last Fall on Government contract; the Government went back on th' deal an' they was wintered up here. Got th' pick o' th' lot, I hear." Dave fell into silence and stared at the fire. Karl puffed thoughtfully while he looked at the black head whose schemes seemed coming to nought.
"Cameron 's got back," continued Dave; "he 's brought his money with him; took up his note at the bank; paid full interest." Another pause, with no comment from Karl. Dave continued to display his items of information in sections. "I met One-eye Harris at Eccles'.
"Th' Cyclone ranch has got some with th' itch. It 'll mean a lot o' work—an' then some.