"Henderson should have been a country squire," said Jim. "He's a perfect host."
The camp was quiet during the afternoon. Jim saw the committee off at five o'clock, then went up to the tent house. Sara and he glanced at each other coolly and nodded. Pen started the conversation hurriedly.
"What word from the two hombres?"
Jim shook his head. "One posse got away last night before I warned them. I'm afraid that if the murderers are brought into camp I can't avert a lynching bee."
Pen shivered. Sara grunted. "You'd think Pen had lived in a convent all of her life instead of a death pen like New York."
"It's so lonesome out here, human life means more to you," said Jim.
"Some philosopher you are," sneered Sara. "Fine lot of drool you got off at the hearing. Why didn't you keep to the main issue? The yokels are still saying with the rest of us, He must be dishonest or he'd give an honest 'No' to our accusations."
Jim answered slowly: "When a man says that sort of thing to me I usually knock him down, or completely ignore him."
"You can't knock us all down and the time is rapidly coming when we will be ignoring you, minus a job."
"Still," pleaded Pen, "he couldn't understand your speech. Once and for all, Jim, give him and all the rest the lie."