No man in this company was more feared by the ruffians than Rumsey. They could not frighten him, and no warning of his friends prevented him from fully expressing and ventilating his opinions concerning them. Nothing would silence his denunciations, but his death; and this being resolved upon by the robbers, they prepared to improve the opportunity afforded by his return to Virginia City, to accomplish it. It was so late in the day when he arrived at Dempsey’s that he concluded to pass the night there. Boone Helm, who had been awaiting his appearance, met him in the bar-room soon after his arrival, and invited him and other persons present to drink with him. Rumsey drank with the company two or three times. Helm called for more drinks.
“I’ve had enough,” said Rumsey, declining to drink more.
“Take another, take another,” said Helm. “It’s good to keep the cold out.”
“Not another drop,” replied Rumsey. “I know my gauge on the liquor question, and never go beyond it.”
“You shall drink again,” said Helm, with an oath, casting a malicious glance at Rumsey.
“I won’t drink again,” was the immediate reply, “and no man can make me.”
“No man can refuse to drink with me and live,” replied Helm, seizing his revolver as if to draw it.
Rumsey was too quick for him. Before the desperado could draw his pistol, Rumsey had his levelled at his head. Addressing him in a calm, steady tone, he said,
“Don’t draw your pistol, or I’ll shoot you, sure.”
The men gazed sternly upon each other for a minute or more, Helm finally loosing his grasp of his pistol, and saying,