“Hurt?” asked Stranleigh.
“Yes, it does,” admitted Jim, ruefully.
“Well, my shoulder hurt a good deal after you fired at me. Now, I’ll tell you what I’ll do, Jim. Next time I shoot at you, I’ll take the other ear. You’re determined to prove yourself a brigand, or a pirate, or something of that sort, and as pirates always wear earrings, that will put you in a position to adopt them. What do you say to my proposal for an armistice?”
“I can’t answer for the rest of the boys without consulting them. If we need an armistice or a status quo, why, I suppose we ought to have them.”
“All right. If your ear hurts, the sooner you get it attended to, the better. You go directly down to the house and see Miss Armstrong, and you can reflect upon the situation while she is dressing the wound. Deep thinking will take your mind from the pain. Then go up and consult the company. Come and let me know what they decide. Meanwhile, I’ll guarantee that no one comes out of that bunk house without being shot at.”
“Mr. Stranleigh, I’ll do what you say, but I’ll change the order. I’ll go first to our shack, and warn the boys. That’s only fair, for they’re watching from that door, and if they see me going to the house they may think it’s all right, and come outside. After talking with them, I’ll visit Miss Armstrong, and then come back here to tell you what the boys say.”
“Yes, Jim; that’s a better plan than mine. But first give me your word that you will take no advantage of this respite until war. An armistice, you know, is a cessation of hostilities.”
“You mean that there will be no shenanigan? I give you my word.”
The wounded man made his way to the bunk house. Shortly afterwards Stranleigh saw him emerge, and go towards the homestead. After a longer interval he came slowly up towards the fortress, his ear neatly bandaged in white linen, which showed up, as one might say, like a small flag of truce.
“Well, what did Miss Armstrong say about the wounded ear?”