“If they stampeded they may break out, and about half the nags will go with them.”
The cattle also became quieted under the weird chanting of the Texan, and then the horses once more became restive.
“Say, Pinto Paul, you stay about the horses while I soothe the split-hoofs with the melody of my voice, which can lull them to rest,” said the Texan, in a light vein.
“Jack, give me an order to tackle the mate of that mountain lion the chief killed, or to brace up against a couple of outlaws, and I’ll do it, but don’t expect me to play a lone hand, for I don’t intend to do it.”
“You are surely not scared, Paul?”
“I tell you that this is no place for living men when the dead are prowling about.”
Texas Jack saw that Pinto Paul was in deadly earnest, and he said no more, merely remarking:
“Well, Paul, if you think I am a foil to the ghosts we’ll stay together, and we’ll keep by the gate, so as to head the cattle if they make a break for it, and I’ll keep up my song.”