Mason had looked up quickly when McIntyre began to speak and then lowered his eyes and was looking at the fire.
"Why, no, Mac," he replied; "I didn't see anything that excited me very much. The town seemed about as usual—dogs lying in the sun, asleep; two or three men reading a month-old newspaper; lots of flies buzzing in the windows; passenger comes in once a day going east, once a day going west, and freight trains happen along occasionally. Not much excitement in town."
At this answer, the usually grave McIntyre slapped his thigh and burst into a loud guffaw.
"Bully for you, Jack Mason!" he cried. "You've got some sense of humor, darned if you ain't. Why, boys," he went on, addressing the group, "this is what Red Casey of the Bar Lazy A told me. He said that the other morning—meaning the morning Jack Mason here got to town—he was settin' in Jim Decker's saloon playin' a little game of poker with Slim Jim Rutherford, when Jack here come into the saloon. Claib Wood had been drunk all the night before, and had just come in for his morning nip. Jack here walked up to him and they talked for two or three minutes and then Claib tried to draw his gun. In a jiffy Jack grabbed him and held him and called to Ross to take both guns away; and then after a minute Jack picked Claib up and threw him across the room so hard that when he hit the wall and fell on the floor his arm and collar-bone were broken, and his shoulder was out of joint. Claib hit the wall so hard that the boys thought he was dead; but it seems not, and it's a darned pity too. Now, Jack Mason, why didn't you tell us all this when you came back from town?"
The boys shouted with laughter, but Mason said nothing—only continued to look at the fire.
When the tumult of cheers and jokes had somewhat died down, McIntyre repeated his question, but without receiving an answer. Then he turned and looked over toward Donald.
"Say, boys, there's another criminal here, it seems to me. Here's this Britisher that came out the other night with Jack Mason. He must have known all about the thing, and I would like to know why he didn't tell us. He's tryin' to learn how to be a cowboy, but he sure will never learn to be a good cowboy until he's ready to give the news, and to make fun of any other puncher that he gets a chance to josh."
After a moment, Donald spoke.
"Well, Mr. McIntyre, I am new at the cowboy business," he said. "I have only been trying to learn it for a day or two, and so I cannot be expected to do my work very well. I did tell one boy when I got here, and it made him laugh so much that I got a little scared and asked him not to say anything about it until the news reached the boys in some other way. Isn't that so, Jack Danvers?"
"Sure," vouched Jack. "Donald told me the whole story the morning he got in, and I wanted to make a whoop and hurrah about it right off, but he begged me not to, because he didn't want to be counted a gossip. Don't you remember last night, when I was asking you men all those questions about Claib Wood? I was watching Jack Mason all the time to see if he would make any sign, but he never let on that he had even seen Claib Wood when he was in town."