Lang scowled, remembering the recent occasion when Harris had ordered them off.
"To hell with——" he commenced, but the albino cut him short.
"Drink it," he said.
Ten minutes later the five men rose to go. Harris looked at his watch.
"I'm off," he said to Evans. "Try and get the boys home by to-morrow morning if it's possible."
He went outside and mounted as the five rustlers swung to their saddles.
"I'm going your way as far as the forks," he said to Harper.
The Three Bar men were treated to the sight of their foreman riding down the road beside Harper at the head of four of the worst ruffians in the State.
And behind the bar Brill moved softly back and forth when not serving drinks, pausing opposite first one group and then the next to dab at the polished wood with his cloth, listening carefully to the conversation and gauging it to determine whether the apparent sentiment toward the squatter foreman was sincere or would prove different when the men, flushed with undiluted rye, were unrestrained by his presence. At one end of the bar Evans and Bentley conversed together in low tones but whenever Brill strolled casually to their end the conference lagged. The few sentences which reached his ears were of trivial concern.