"You should have come sooner, Harry," said somebody.
The rancher turned, the group closed in again, and the girl did not see Alton stride up to a big man, and laying a hand upon his shoulder swing him round. "Tom," he said with a curious quietness, "there was a message you did not give me, you drunken hog."
The man shook his grasp off, glanced at him bewilderedly, and then while the bronze grew a little darker in his face doubled a great fist.
"If I take a little more than is good for me now and then, that's my lookout," he said. "Now I don't want any trouble with you, Harry, but I'll not take that talk from any man."
Alton's face was almost grey and his eyes partly closed, but there was a steely glint in them as he said, "Did you bring me the message Miss Townshead gave you?"
"I did the next thing," said the man. "When I couldn't find you I gave it to the lady. She promised to tell you."
"Tom," said Alton slowly, "you are worse than a drunken hog, you are——"
A man stepped in front of him before the word was spoken, while another pinioned the culprit's arm.
"We've no use for that kind of talk and the fuss that follows it," said the first one. "Anyway, if Tom mixed things up it was my fault and Dobey's for giving him the whisky. We'd sold some stock well and we rushed him in. Well, now, if you still feel you must work it off on somebody you've got to tackle Dobey and me!"
Alton let his hands drop. "Do you know what you have done?" said he.