“That flush excited yuh so you seen a mirage, Jimmie,” bantered Speaker, whose ready wit and genial manner had won their way into the sheepman’s affection.
“I hope so,” was the curt response. But 224 Welsh had seen no mirage, and he was aware of the fact, knowing that a council of war was delaying the action of the other party.
His chief concern was the disposal of his prisoners. Excepting for the first line of breastworks, the only protection in the flat area of the camp was derived from the masses of stone that had fallen into it, and behind which one or two men could hide. At last it was decided that the prisoners, unarmed as they were, should lie down behind the wall out of danger’s way, while the sheepmen should take their chances behind the rocks. Another reason for this was, that it would never do to have the prisoners behind the men who were doing the fighting, ready to attack from the rear at first chance.
Each man had fifty rounds of ammunition, and was a fairly good shot, not, of course, equaling the cowboys in this respect. The prisoners had hardly been placed when, from behind a neighboring hogback, rode a man waving a white handkerchief.
Welsh stepped out of the camp and drove him back before he could talk, realizing the fellow’s clever idea of spying on the defenders’ position.
The cowboy had little to say except to demand the immediate surrender of the cattle-owners and 225 the delivery up to court martial of half the sheepmen. Jimmie laughed in the messenger’s face, and told him to tell whoever was boss of that outfit to come and take anything he wanted, and to come well heeled.
Then he went back to the rocky camp and stood his men up in a row.
“We got to keep our guests another week yet, boys,” he said. “Mr. Larkin won’t be up the range till that time, and our job is to keep them cowboys occupied so as to hold the range open for the sheep. Now anybody what don’t want to take chances with lead can go from here now and get hung by the punchers. If there’s many of ’em I allow we won’t see Montana ag’in till we’re angels; if there ain’t, they won’t see the Bar T. Now that’s the story. One other thing.
“Our guests are out in front. If yuh see any of ’em actin’ funny or tryin’ to get away, put a hole in ’em an’ end that right off. Hear that, boys?” he yelled to the cowmen who were on the ground behind the defense.
“Yep,” they shouted, and continued to chaff one another unmercifully in the greatest good-humor.