“You can do that for me?” he inquired still more coldly.
Beasley shot a swift glance round at the interested faces of the men standing by.
“Oh, guess I can do it,” he said, his eyes twinkling. “Sure I can do it. Say, you fellers ain’t lightin’ out?”
He winked again. This time it was deliberately at Buck.
“They’re winter stores,” said Buck shortly.
Then, as Beasley laughed right out, and he became aware of a general smile at his expense, he grew hot.
“What’s the matter?” he demanded sharply. And his demand was not intended for the saloon-keeper alone.
“Ke’p your shirt on, Buck,” exclaimed Beasley, with studied good-nature. “We couldn’t jest help but laff.” Then his eyes became sentimentally serious. “Y’ see, we bin worried some. We wus guessin’ when you came along. Y’ see, ther’s a sheriff an’ a big posse o’ dep’ties comin’ right along to this yer camp. Y’ see, ther’s some guy chasin’ around the hills, an’ he’s wanted fer—murder.”
The man was watching for an effect in Buck’s face. But he might as well have looked for expression in that of a sphinx.