The ranchmen liked these Englishmen. They were being treated with great consideration; the little one was amusing but he was all right. So ran the verdict of the Long Horn saloon.
Sir John Applegate stood unconvinced. Henry's eyes were fastened on him, and he read there something that held a reason for his denial. At all events he had been most unwise—he knew that now—and he must, for Diana's sake, undo his hasty words.
"Well, of course," he began, as he realized that further comment would be futile, "I was under the impression that I hadn't had a drink—not one, by Jove! Well, I must be squiffy." The cow-punchers laughed. "Here's," he finished, "to her Gracious Majesty the Queen—God bless her!"
Big Bill, who would have been an arch-diplomat in another sphere of life, said:
"Not forgettin' his Gracious Majesty the President, you know."
Sir John rose to the occasion. "Oh, quite so—his Royal Highness the President—God bless him!"
The men slapped one another in appreciation of the joke. Sir John tried to drink the whiskey of the country, but with a sigh he said, after the first taste, "Say, as I must drink, please make it Scotch."
During the scene in the saloon the car had drawn down the line and was shunting up and down the rails in a way comprehensible only to the powers that control an engine. Henry apprehensively looked towards the car, and went to meet Dan, whom he could see at the farther end of the platform. The meeting with Jim had been painful, and he was almost at his wits' end. As he could not force Diana's prompt withdrawal, he would fetch Dan to insist upon the passengers' return to the car.
Jim had seen Henry slip away unobserved. Would Diana and Sir John never go? He could see that the excitement was beginning to tell on Diana. Suddenly she swayed—yet he dared not go near her.
"Bill," he called, "the lady looks as though she were going to faint."