“It is of no importance to me what your opinion is; we need the horses and the mule for our own use and we shall keep them.”
“But you’ve got one more than you want.”
“He belongs to a friend who is not far off and will soon return; we can’t spare one of them.”
“If we give you four of ours for the lot, that’ll make an even thing of it. Besides, we’ll throw in something to boot.”
“I wouldn’t give one of the horse’s shoes for all the trash you have piled on top of your animals; the stuff isn’t worth house room, but it is what I should expect to see in the hands of a lot of tramps like you and yours; I wouldn’t trade our mule for the whole party which, to judge by their looks, ought to be in jail.”
Brush and Ruggles were amazed to hear the captain use such language, for it sounded as if he was trying to provoke instead of avoid a fight. The truth was the 245 veteran was thoroughly enraged by the evident purpose of the fellow before him. Although his voice was low and deliberate, the captain’s temper was at a white heat. The point had been reached where a desperate struggle seemed unavoidable, and he wished to precipitate the crisis, inasmuch as it had to come.
Colonel Briggs did not laugh, but turning his head, talked for a minute with the man nearest him, their words so low that no one else heard them. Then the leader turned back in a quick, decisive way.
“There don’t seem much use in talking, stranger, so ’spose we make a fight of it.”
“As you prefer.”
The gang hardly expected so firm a front. Some of them muttered to one another. They were not a unit on the question, though it was evident that the majority preferred to fight.