"When hell freezes over, we're licked," he said. "Where's me automatic?"
MacDougall brought in the guns and ammunition.
"In the morning we will begin the erection of a new building close to this one," said Philip. "There is no reason for the building, but that will give me an excuse for keeping you men together on one job, within fifty feet of your guns, which we can keep in this room. Only four men need work at a shift, and I'll put Cassidy in charge of the operations, if that is satisfactory to the others. We'll have a couple of new bunks put in here so that four men can stay with MacDougall and me every night. The other four, who are not on the working shift, can hunt not far from the camp, and keep their eyes peeled. Does that look good?"
"Can't be beat," said Henshaw, throwing open the breech of his gun. "Shall we load?"
"Yes."
The room became ominous with the metallic click of loaded cartridge clips and the hard snap of released chambers.
Five minutes later Philip stood alone with MacDougall. The loaded rifles, each with a filled cartridge belt hanging over the muzzle, were arranged in a row along one of the walls.
"I'll stake everything I've got on those men," he exclaimed. "Mac, did it ever strike you that when you want REAL men you ought to come north for them? Every one of those fellows is a northerner, except Cassidy, and he's a fighter by birth. They'll die before they go back on their word."
MacDougall rubbed his hands and laughed softly.
"What next, Phil?"