“Yes; a word from me,” said Gunson. “Tell him that something ought to be done to preserve order here, for the people are collecting fast, and some of them the roughest of the rough.”
“Yes,” said Grey. “I’ll tell him; but he knows already; we had a taste of ’em yesterday. Anything else?”
“No,” said Gunson; “only that perhaps I may want to send to him for help.”
“Best way’s to help yourselves,” said Grey, at last rising from a hearty breakfast. “Good-bye, my lads,” he said, “till we run agen each other later on. I say,” he continued, after shouldering his rifle, “did you two lads bring away guns?”
“No,” I said; “of course not.”
“Haven’t got any then. How many have you?” he continued, turning to Gunson.
“Only my own and a revolver.”
“Lend you mine, young Mr Gordon,” he said, handing it to me, and then unstrapping his ammunition-belt, and with it his revolver in its holster. “Better buy yourself one first chance, and then you can send mine back. Take care of the tackle; it’s all good.”
“Thank you, Grey,” said Gunson, grasping his hand. “You couldn’t have made him a better loan. I won’t forget it.”
“Course you won’t. Nor him neither, I know.”