“Well, boys,” he said, with another attempt at jocularity, “if ther’ ain’t nuthin’ doin’, guess this mail’s sure closed.”
Passing again to the back of the cart, he gazed affectionately upon the gold-chest. Then he lifted his eyes just as Van voiced the question in everybody’s mind.
“You sure ain’t sendin’ pore old Danny with that stage?” he cried incredulously. “You sure ain’t sendin’ him fer James to sift lead through? You ain’t lettin’ him drive Bill’s horses?”
“He sure ain’t. Him drive my plugs? Him? Gee! Ther’ ain’t no one but me drives them hosses––not if Congress passed it a law.”
The harsh, familiar voice of Wild Bill grated contemptuously. He had come up from his hut all unnoticed just in time to hear Van’s protesting inquiry. Now he stood with eyes only for his horses.
Daylight at last shone through the mist of doubt and puzzlement which had kept the citizens of Suffering Creek in darkness so long. They looked at this lean, harsh figure and understood. Here was the driver of the stage, and, curiously, with this realization their doubts of its welfare lessened. All along they had been blaming Bill for his lack of interest in the affairs of the camp, and now––
They watched him with keen, narrowing eyes. What mad game was he contemplating? They noted his dress. It was different to that which he usually wore. His legs were encased in sheepskin chaps. He was wearing a belt about his waist from which hung a heavy pair of guns. And under his black, shiny, short coat he was wearing a simple buckskin shirt.
They watched him as he moved round his horses, examining the fit of the bridles and the fastenings of the harness. He looked to the buckles of the reins. He smoothed the satin coats of his children with affectionate hand. Then in a moment they saw him spring into the cart.
Taking the reins from the choreman, he settled himself into the driving-seat, while the deposed charioteer clambered stiffly to the ground.
Minky was at the wheel nearest to his friend. The horses, under the master-hand, had suddenly become restive. Bill bent over, and the storekeeper craned up towards him.