Nestor’s reply was a shot from his revolver, and the hat of the leader went spinning in the air.
“Here!” cried the cowboy, angrily, but not returning the fire, “don’t you know better than to shoot a gentleman’s hat off?”
“Gentlemen?” inquired Nestor, standing up and surveying the bunch of cattlemen, with a smile. “I don’t see any.”
There was a laugh among the herdsmen at the discomfiture of their leader, and seeing the joke was against him, the man on the black pony joined in the merriment.
“We didn’t intend no harm nohow,” he said. “We’re jest out for a lark, an’ we seen your Old Nick wagon comin’ along. No offense I hope. We was only jokin’!”
“Don’t mention it,” said Nestor, who seemed to know how to take the cowboys. “I suppose my friends may now lower their hands,” for Jerry, Ned and Bob still held their arms aloft.
“Sure!” cried the leader, quickly. “Come on, boys, three cheers for the tenderfeet!” he exclaimed, turning to his companions.
The cheers were given with a will, some of the more exuberant of the cow-punchers firing their guns in the air.
“Some of us boys would like mighty well to take a little spin in that shebang,” spoke the leader to Nestor. “S’pose we could take a few turns?”
“I reckon so,” answered the miner, and he spoke a few quick words to Jerry, advising that the wish of the cowboys be complied with, as they might, in their recklessness, make trouble if they were denied.