The three men looked up at Bill, who slid into a chair at their table and started a new game with them.
"Say, Bill," Shorty began, "if Cash has his war-paint on there ain't no use distributin' tracts on love one another."
"Und, Bill," Andy added, "und say for peace—dot's me, Andy. But say, Bill, rustlin'—cattle stealing—you know. Particular when it's our cattle, Cash has got a lot wit' a circle-star brand which original is a big C for Carston. Say," he wildly went on, becoming more incoherent as his temper rose, "und if we stand for it—you know—und say—we got to git out of de business."
Grouchy leaned over to Bill and shook his head. "Say, I wouldn't work for a man that would stand for it."
Still Bill said nothing, but listened gravely to the storm of protests that the message from Jim to the boys had provoked.
"If the peace of a kummunity is worth a damn, you got to shoot him up a whole lot. It's this delicate consideration for the finer feelings of bad men which encourages 'em." Shorty, in his nervous, jerky manner, fairly shook the table with his vibrations of rebellion.
Then Bill spoke. He was in sympathy with the boys, but he had his orders from the boss—that was enough for him.
"Well, you know Jim. It ain't likely he'd ask you to show the white-feather nor to stand no nonsense. Only"—here Bill paused and said, impressively, "don't drink mor'n you can help, and avoid trouble if possible. Them's the boss's orders."
As Bill was laying down the law for the men, the saloon began to fill with curiosity-seekers from the train. The delay was evidently to be longer than had at first been anticipated. Shorty was the first to see the humor of some of the new-comers.
"Gee, get on to the effete East. Say," he called to the rest of them, "get on to the tenderfeet."