This colloquy had been short, but, brief as the delay had been, it had afforded time for newcomers to arrive. Amazed at the sight of a raging woman holding an army of red men at bay, several "mushers" dropped their burdens and came running forward to learn the meaning of it. The Countess explained rapidly, whereupon one exclaimed:
"Go to it, sister!"
Another agreed heartily. "When you shoot, shoot low. We'll see you through."
"I don't need any assistance," she told them. "They'll keep their agreement or they'll lose their head man. Give the word, Chief."
The old redskin raised his voice in expostulation, but one of the late-comers broke in upon him:
"Aw, shut up, you robber! You're gettin' what you need."
"I'm going to count three," the woman said, inflexibly. Her face had grown very white; her eyes were shining dangerously. "At four I shoot. One! Two—!"
The wrinkled Indian gave a sign; his tribesmen began to divest themselves of their loads.
"Pile it all up beside the trail. Now get under my stuff and don't let's have any more nonsense. The old price goes and I sha'n't raise it a penny." Turning to Danny Royal, she told him: "You could have put this over on a man, but women haven't any sense. I haven't a bit. Every cent I own is tied up in this freight and it's going through on time. I think a lot of it, and if you try to delay it again I'm just foolish enough to blow a hole in this savage—and you, too. Yes, and a miners' meeting would cheer me for doing it."
There was a silence; then Mr. Royal inquired: "Are you waiting for me to speak? Well, all I've got to say is if the James boys had had a sister they'd of been at work yet. I don't know how to tackle a woman."