We walked almost without speaking, to the Hyrum Adams fire. Daniel lifted upper lip at me as we entered; his eyes never wandered from my face. I marked his right hand quivering stiffly; and I disregarded him. For if I had challenged him by so much as an overt glance he would have burst bonds.
Rachael’s eyes, the older woman’s eyes, the eyes of all, men and women, curious, admonitory, hostile and apprehensive, hot and cold together—these I felt also amidst the dusk. I was distinctly unwelcome. Accordingly I said a civil “Good-evening” to Hyrum (whose response out of compressed lips was scarce more than a grunt) and raising my hat to My Lady turned my back upon them, for my own bailiwick.
The other men were waiting en route.
“Didn’t kill ye, did he?”
“No.”
“Wall,” said one, “if you can swing a rattler by the tail, all right. But watch his haid.”
Friend Jenks paced on with me to our fire.
“We were keepin’ cases on you, and so was he. 221 He saw that practice—damn, how he did crane! She was givin’ you pointers, eh?”
“Yes; she wanted amusement.”
“It’ll set Bonnie Bravo to thinkin’—it’ll shorely set him to thinkin’,” Jenks chuckled, mouthing his pipe. “She’s a smart one.” He comfortably rocked to and fro as we sat by the fire. “Hell! Wall, if you got to kill him you got to kill him and do it proper. For if you don’t kill him he’ll kill you; snuff you out like a—wall, you saw that can travel.”