"Perhaps that won't be all," ventured Winthrop, walking toward the ridge where Overland lay concealed.
The tramp grinned up at him. "Mebby not, pardner. You was tellin' Sweeney Orcutt back in Los Angeles that you wanted to get up against the real thing. I reckon you bought the right ticket this trip."
"Will they—will there be any shooting?" asked the Easterner.
"Not if I can help it," replied Overland. "I borrowed your gun on the chance of it. 'Course, if they get sassy, why, they's no tellin' what will happen. I'm mighty touchy about some things. But listen! I'm actin' as your travelin' insurance agent, pro temperly, as the pote says, which means keepin' your temper. If they do spot me, and get foolish enough to think that I got time to listen to any arguments against my rights as a free and unbranded citizen of the big range, why, you drop and roll behind the first sand-hill that is a foot high. After the smoke blows away, I'll be dee-lighted to accept your congratulations."
"I guess you mean business," said Winthrop, becoming serious. "I'm game, but isn't there any other way out of it?"
"Not for me, son. What chance would I have with the whole desert town to swear against me? They're after the gold, and they reckon to scare me into tellin' where it is. I'm after that same gold, and I don't reckon to be bluffed off by a couple of pikers like them."
"The dark one, the man on the bay horse, seemed to be a pretty capable-looking individual," said Winthrop.
"Glad you noticed that. You're improvin'. He is a capable gent. He's a old two-gun man. Did you see how he had his guns tied down low so they would pull quick. Nothin' fancy about him, but he's good leather. The other one don't count."
"What shall I do when they come back?"
"You jest go to studyin' bugs or rattlesnakes or tarantulas or somethin'. Make a bluff at it. If they ask you anything, answer 'em nice and polite, and so I can hear. A whole pile depends on my keepin' up with the talk. I'll figure from what they say, or don't say."