Still the big-bodied expert seemed only mildly interested.
“If anybody should happen to get mixed up legally with the Mesquite folks on this job of theirs, it would be pretty hard to get a jury in Brewster which would lean the way the judge does, wouldn’t it?” he asked.
Maxwell’s verdict was unqualified. “It would be practically impossible.” He had found his pipe and was filling it when Sprague pointed to the spur track at the end of the railroad building opposite.
“Is that your special train over there, Dick?”
“Yes. You see I’ve obeyed orders. That train has been standing there for two days, with three shifts of men dividing up the watch in the engine cab.”
“And the committee of prominent citizens hasn’t yet materialized, eh? Never mind; you’ve done your part. What is the latest from Angels?”
“More cloud-bursts in the hills, and more activity up on the Mesquite. Disbrow says that Jennings has been offering all sorts of big pay to the scattered ranchmen to get them to come on the job with scraper-teams.”
“That’s bad,” said the chemistry man briefly; adding, “I don’t like that.”
Starbuck got up to stand with his back to a porch pillar. From the new position he could look through the windows into the thronged hotel lobby.
“This town’s stirred up some hotter than I’ve ever seen it before,” he drawled. “Look at that mob inside—and every blame’ man of it chewing the rag over this water proposition.”