"One on each side. We stuffs some bits o' rag in the holes, but the boat begins to fill. One side o' the river's sheer rock, an' there ain't no landin' there. Cussin' free, an' every man wi' his rifle ready, we beaches the boat on the other shore an' gets out, ready for the scrap.
"Then some one starts to talk, over our heads, hidden in the rocks:
"'Gents, I'm sure sorry to stop your trip! There's twenty of us, an' each has his man covered. It ain't no use for you to make trouble. Them as is reasonable can leave their bags o' dust an' their pop-guns on the beach, an' walk off fifty paces to the left. Them as wants to show their shootin' can wait jest two minutes by the watch, an' the fun'll begin, us havin' the pick o' the shots an' bein' under cover. The cards is stacked agin you, gents, an' there ain't no use to play.'
"We all shoots back, o' course, more to relieve our feelin's'n anything else, for we knows this new-style road-agent has dodged back to cover.
"Me an' four others, we don't hesitate. We lays our bags o' dust an' our guns on the beach an' toddles off, as directed. Then I looks back an' sees Bull standin' there, alone.
"He's a durn fool an' I knows it. But he's my pardner, is Bull!
"I goes back an' tries to persuade him to eat crow. But Bull's stubborn as a mule an' don't budge. I ain't a-goin' to leave him. So we both stands there.
"The road-agent has been takin' this in, an' presently he pipes up:
"'Very pretty, gents. Pardners is pardners and that's doin' it handsome. Put up your hands an' we won't shoot.'
"For answer, Bull snaps his rifle to his shoulder an' fires.