Thorvik stood on the lowest step, his back to them, bareheaded and pouring out a stream of eloquence. Two or three men stepped up to him and began an earnest discussion, which waxed hotter and hotter as the minutes passed, as the crowd quieted, and as all stood waiting. Dabney Mills joined them, shaking his head and protesting vehemently. Beatrice, leaning forward, caught enough of the broken English to understand the meaning of their hesitation. They were arguing as to which should go in first. Inside a great sum of money was spread out upon the table, with no one to guard it but an injured man and two girls, yet these disturbers of the night’s peace were quarreling as to who should enter first.
It was Dan O’Leary who pushed through the crowd finally and strode up the steps. The girls turned to watch him cross the hall and stop before the table where John Herrick sat unmoving.
“Well, boss,” the Irishman said simply, “how about it?”
John Herrick’s thin face relaxed into a smile.
“Why don’t your friends come in?” he asked.
“They’re a bit shy,” Dan admitted. “I hear them talking it over how you can shoot straighter than any other man in Broken Bow County.”
John Herrick’s smile grew broader and he got to his feet.
“Then I suppose I must go out to them,” he said, “if they won’t come in.”
He limped slowly across the hall and out upon the steps, while a great roar went up from the men as he appeared.
“The money of which there has been so much talk is in there on my table. Is there any man who cares to come in to count it?”