"But who'll take charge of Gaspar?"
"Who? Why me, of course! Unless somebody else would like the job more?
I'll keep him right here in the Bent cabin."
"Sinclair," protested Buck Mason, "you're a pretty capable sort. They ain't no doubt of that. But what if Jerry Bent comes home, which he's sure to do before night? There'd be a mess, because Jerry'd fight for Gaspar, I know!"
"Partner," said Riley Sinclair dryly, "if it come to that, then I guess
I'd have to fight back."
It was foolish to question the power in that grave, sardonic face. The other men gave way, nodding one by one. Secretly each man, now that the excitement was gone, was glad that they had not proceeded to the last extremity. In five minutes they were drifting away, and all this time Sinclair watched the face of John Gaspar, as the sorrow changed to wonder, and the wonder to the vague beginnings of happiness.
Suddenly he felt that he had the clue to the mystery of Cold Feet. As a matter of fact John Gaspar had never grown up. He was still a weak, dreamy boy.
10
The posse had hardly thrown its masks to the wind and galloped down the road when Sally Bent came running from the house.
"I knew they couldn't," she cried to John Gaspar. "I knew they wouldn't dare. The cowards! I'll remember every one of them!"
"Hush!" murmured Gaspar. His faint smile was for Riley Sinclair. "One of them is still here, you see!"