“Granted. The explanation is a little far-fetched, friend Jordan, but we’ll let it go. But why was Benner keeping the paper in his watch? One reading would have been enough for him, it seems to me. After getting the gist of the paper talk, it would have been safer for Benner to do with it what Wild Bill did afterwards—tear it up.”
“There’s no accounting for what those cattle barons do,” said the sky pilot, shaking his head. “They have suddenly become so prosperous that their heads are turned. ‘The love of gold is the root of all evil,’ my friends. Much wealth has a deplorable effect on the majority of us.”
“There’s a little evil, I reckon, parson,” returned the Laramie man, “that gold hasn’t much to do with. For instance, there’s no glittering wealth back of the barons’ persecution of the Perrys.”
“It’s the riches of which Benner has suddenly become possessed,” insisted the sky pilot, “that leads him into all these excesses. Too much money has turned his brain. What man, of Benner’s professed standing in this community, would allow himself to make war on the Perrys as he has done?”
Nate Dunbar muttered savagely under his breath.
“There’s just one thing to do,” he averred, with a snap of his jaws and a savage glimmer in his eyes.
“What’s thet?” asked the trapper.
“Lay for Benner!” said Dunbar, through his teeth. “Hang out in the brush and put a bullet where it will do the country the most good!”
Jordan leaned over and dropped a gentle hand on the cowboy’s shoulder.
“My friend,” he murmured, “those words are not from your heart. I know you too well. You’re not the sort of fellow to skulk in the brush like a rattlesnake and strike at the man who comes along. Why, Nate, even a rattlesnake gives warning. No, no. Face this manfully, and in the open. Such injustice cannot thrive. Take my word for it, it will not succeed.”