The man turned like a tiger on the red-headed man, whom he had almost forgotten.
“What d’you mean?” he cried.
“Just what I say. That knife,” Larry said, without moving.
“Do you think I’m going to herd around with a bunch like you got here without——”
“We need that knife.”
Larry had risen from the chair, and the newcomer measured him with no friendly eyes. Then, as though his estimate was conclusive argument, he opened his cloth vest and produced a long sheath-knife and laid it on the table, hilt towards Jim.
Jim nodded and glanced across at Larry. Perhaps there was a sign passed between them. At any rate, Jim turned on the crook.
“I think we’re through. My man Despard’ll pass you on to your right bunk-house, and see you get the blankets, and feed, and anything in reason you need. You can buy smoke and most anything else you need from him. Even a certain limit of booze. Work starts at daylight. You’re welcome here so long as you behave like a reasonable citizen. And if any danger from outside comes along, you’ll get ample warning. I want you to get this, and get it good. This layout is run dead right. It’s a sheer shelter from the things that worry you outside. We guarantee that. We call it the ‘Valley of Hope’ because it gives folks like you a chance of a getaway from what’s chasing you, and the chance of a fresh start. What we ask in return is work, and that you can act the reasonable man while you’re here. If you don’t, we can deal with any breaking of our rules. Stop around as long as you fancy, and you’re welcome.”
Completely disarmed, Pike’s whole attitude seemed to undergo a change. He drew a deep breath, and glanced from Jim’s snow-white head to the fiery red of Larry Manford. And quite suddenly his eyes twinkled with genuine good-nature.
“You two guys are pretty bright,” he grinned, “an’ someways I don’t feel sore about it. Well, you got me wher’ you need. I don’t guess I could put up a scrap worth callin’ with a skippin’ lamb. I’m to get right after mossbackin’. I’m goin’ to run a binder, an’ cut hay, an’ cordwood. Gee! Me! I want to laff. But it’s good, too. It surely is to a boy whose spent most of his time in the dark corners of the city, and only works overtime when there’s no moonlight to worry with. I’m only lookin’ fer shelter till the noise dies down. Then I’ll beat it over the United States border. Meanwhile I’ll chew those reg’lations good, an’ put ’em through. I’m surely goin’ to be a real peaceful mossback in this layout. Say——”