“I’ve no doubt,” was all the answer Jim vouchsafed.
But before Smallbones could retort, Peter Blunt, followed by Jake Wilkes and Angel Gay, approached.
“We’ll stay here too, Doc,” he said. “Guess Smallbones’ll need help. You see he isn’t much of a man to look after a prisoner. Anyway, Jim Thorpe’s a friend of ours.”
“Right, Peter, an’ you two fellers,” cried the relieved doctor. “I ken hear the buckboard I sent over for comin’ along. I’ll start right out.” Then he added pointedly, “I guess I’ll leave him in your charge.”
The doctor passed out and was followed at once by most of Rocket’s customers, all eager to investigate the murder for their own morbid satisfaction. And thus only the three friends of Jim Thorpe, with Smallbones and two others, were left with the prisoner.
The moment the doors had swung to behind the last of the departures, Peter Blunt suddenly strode across the room to where Smallbones stood, staring at his intended victim with snapping eyes. So sudden was his approach that the little man was taken quite unawares. He seized him by the collar with one hand, and with the other deprived him of the guns with which he was still armed, as a result of his service on the vigilance committee, and, though he struggled and cursed violently, he carried him bodily to the door and deliberately flung him outside.
“If you attempt to get in here again till Doc returns I’ll throw you out just the same again, if I have to do it twenty times,” Peter declared. Then he turned back to the men at the bar.
“I feel mean havin’ to do it,” he said, almost shamefacedly. “Only I guess things’ll be more comfortable all round now.”