"Well, don't say anything more about it, will you? Let's—" Shorty put out his hand.
Jim grasped it. "Let it go at that," Jim finished. "You understand that you are to leave Cash to me unless more get into the game."
Bill, who had been listening to it all, drew Jim aside. He preferred peace, but knew that they and Carston's ranch stood marked for the crowd to jeer at for all time unless they did what was expected of them by the laws of the cow town, made by its men, not by the government that they abused.
"Jim"—Bill spoke over his shoulder—"Bud Hardy, the County Sheriff, is standing just behind you at the bar, and he's particular thick with Cash. Got to take him into account."
Jim nodded; with his arm through Bill's he crossed to a side entrance and stood under the porch. He wanted to discuss with Bill what was best to do. Shorty and Andy stood up against the bar and treated their particular friends to drinks. They felt it was going to be a red-letter day for Carston's ranch.
Outside the Overland Limited tooted at intervals, and sent up shrill whistles, but made no attempt to leave Maverick. One official's information was denied by the next one. Passengers had come in and had gone again—some of them frightened, some disgusted by the life of the saloon. A little farther down the line others of the passengers were being amused by some Indians who, at the news of the train's stopping, had hurried to the railroad.
Cash's departure had allowed the place to grow quiet. Even Nick hoped he would not find his men and return. There was a sudden shunting of the train, and the rear car moved back in to more direct view of the saloon. Diana, tired of the wait, had finally persuaded Sir John and Henry to alight and see the place. They all entered together.
"By Jove, what a rum hole!" Sir John exclaimed.
"Hello, there's a faro-table!" exclaimed Henry.
All that Diana said was, "I thought you had given up play, Henry."