Nick and Gus were conversing in low tones as they sat on their restless horses. Teddy rode up and down in front of Rimer’s Place. Roy was bending over his broncho’s back, raising his left stirrup a trifle. It was hard to get used to another horse, after owning Star.
Pop Burns sat quietly in the saddle, facing the restaurant. A close observer could have seen that his revolver was loose in its holster, and the rifle he had removed from its case on the saddle was held lightly in his hands, ready for action.
Suddenly, from within the restaurant, came a cry of alarm. A moment’s silence, and another cry of alarm rent the quiet air.
Like a flash Pop Burns slipped from his saddle.
“Come on, boys!� he yelled, making a dash for the door. “Inside! Fast! We gotta help the boss!�
CHAPTER VI
THE THREE HORSEMEN
When Mr. Manley entered Rimor’s he looked sharply about him. After the bright sunshine of the street, the subdued light in the restaurant, due to shaded windows, caused the cattleman to squint his eyes. He hitched up his belt, from which, in a holster, hung a heavy revolver, and walked forward.
A bar, ostensibly for the serving of soft drinks, ran from the front of Rimor’s place to the rear. To the right of this, on the other side of the room, were a number of tables, three with signs on them, “Reserved for Ladies.� These tables were the excuse for the title “Restaurant.�
An odor of staleness permeated the room. Flies buzzed lazily in the hot, close air. When the ranchman entered the only other person in the place was the bartender, an aproned figure with “New York� plainly written on his patent leather shoes and slick plastered-down hair. He sat on a chair in front of the bar, eagerly reading a week-old copy of a Manhattan paper.
As the cattleman approached, the barkeeper raised his eyes from the paper and calmly surveyed Mr. Manley.