“Disarm that rabble,” said Major King, speaking to a subordinate officer, “and take charge of the men they have been holding.”
“Sir, I protest—” Macdonald began.
“I have no words to waste on you!” Major King cut him off shortly.
“I’d play a slow hand on that line, King, and a careful one, if I were you,” advised Neel. “If you take these men’s guns away from them they’ll be at the mercy of Chadron’s brigands. I tell you, man, I know the situation in this country!”
“Thank you,” said King, in cold hauteur.
Chadron’s eyes were lighting with the glitter of revenge. He sat grinding his bridle-reins in his gloved hand, as if he had the bones of the nesters in his palm at last.
“You will proceed, with the rescued party under guard, to Meander,” continued Major King to his officer, speaking as if he had plans for his own employment aside from the expedition. “There, Mr. Chadron will furnish transportation to return them whence they came.”
“I’ll furnish—” began Chadron, in amazement at this unexpected turn.
“Transportation, sir,” completed Major King, in his cold way.