Whispering Smith lifted his finger and for the first time smiled. “Now there you err, Rebstock––it is ’a goin’ to be’ the last. So you think I’m after you, do you? Well, if I were, what are you going to do about it? Rebstock, do you think, if I wanted you, I would send a message for you to come out and meet me? Not on your life! When I want you I’ll come to your shack and drag you out by the hair of the head. Sit down!” roared Whispering Smith.
Rebstock, who weighed at least two hundred and seventy-five pounds, had lifted himself up to glare and swear freely. Now he dropped angrily back into his chair. “Well, who do you want?” he bellowed in kind.
A smile softened the asperity of the railroad man’s face. “That’s a fair question and I give 287 you a straight answer. I’m not bluffing: I want Du Sang.”
Rebstock squirmed. He swore with shortened breath that he knew nothing about Du Sang; that Du Sang had stolen his cattle; that hanging was too good for him; that he would join any posse in searching for him; and that he had not seen him for three months.
“Likely enough,” assented Whispering Smith, “but this is wasting time. He rode in here last night after killing old Dan Baggs. Your estimable nephew Barney is with him, and Karg is with him, and I want them; but, in especial and particular, I want Du Sang.”
Rebstock denied, protested, wheezed, and stormed, but Whispering Smith was immovable. He would not stir from the Cache upon any promises. Rebstock offered to surrender any one else in the Cache––hinted strongly at two different men for whom handsome rewards were out; but every compromise suggested was met with the same good-natured words: “I want Du Sang.”
At last the smile changed on Whispering Smith’s face. It lighted his eyes still, but with a different expression. “See here, Rebstock, you and I have always got along, haven’t we? I’ve no desire to crowd any man to the wall that is a man. Now I am going to tell you the simple truth. Du Sang 288 has got you scared to death. That man is a faker, Rebstock. Because he kills men right and left without any provocation, you think he is dangerous. He isn’t; there are a dozen men in the Cache just as good with a gun as Du Sang is. Don’t shake your head. I know what I’m talking about. He is a jay with a gun, and you may tell him I said so; do you hear? Tell him to come out if he wants me to demonstrate it. He has got everybody, including you, scared to death. Now, I say, don’t be silly. I want Du Sang.”
Rebstock rose to his feet solemnly and pointed his finger at Whispering Smith. “Whispering Smith, you know me––”
“I know you for a fat rascal.”
“That’s all right. You know me, and, just as you say, we always get along because we both got sense.”