“Amigo,” answered Dunbar. “I think a heap of you; we all do, at this ranch. But hasn’t injustice thrived here for months? What’s happened to Perry’s cattle? Might has made right for a long time. I’m getting tired waiting for a change.”
“It is a long lane that has no turning, Nate,” said the sky pilot with an encouraging smile, “and I have a feeling that this lane is close to that point. Providence has been kind to you and to the Perrys. Can’t you see the hand of Providence in what happened at Red Steve’s? Buffalo Bill was brought to your rescue, even as Wild Bill and old Nomad discovered things in Hackamore that brought them to the aid of Perry and Hattie. These,” the sky pilot indicated the scout and his pards with a gesture, “are stanch friends—men renowned for their deeds—against whom the cattle barons cannot prevail. Trust the future, man! Give Buffalo Bill and his friends your full confidence, and then abide by the result.”
Dunbar was heartened not a little by the sky pilot’s words.
“I’m willin’ to do anything a man can do,” said he. “I’m only human, parson, and it grinds me something terrible to see the Perrys treated as they have been. There are only four in Buffalo Bill’s party—six with you and me—and you know how many punchers Benner and Phelps can muster. That’s what makes the thing look hopeless.”
“The race is not always to the swift, Nate, nor the battle to the strong.”
“Well, parson, I always pin my faith on a horse that can go, and put my confidence in the outfit that has the biggest number.”
“Which is wrong, Nate. Intellect counts most in this world. It’s the thinkers who take victory from mere numbers and brute force.”
“And that’s over my head, parson. Not but that I believe in Buffalo Bill—only I want to be shown that things will come our way, and I want to be shown quick.”
“We’ll begin showing you to-morrow,” said the scout.
“How?” asked Dunbar.