Talking encourages me, and it seemed even betting whether me or Ginger was booked right through to glory. Yes, I talked to gain time for Ginger, and for me a little, even persuading the robbers to take no risks. I forgot how them sort of cattle drives by contraries. I only set their minds on coming, and heard their boss give orders.
He wanted me into the cabin, but I'd taken a dislike to catgut, so Ginger got orders to shoot me. At that I flared up. "Shoot," says I, "you skulking cowards, scared to show your noses at the door. Hold your off ear, Whiskers. Charge, you curs!"
The chief came first, straight at me, and seemed to climb over my foot on to his nose. Mr. Bull Brooke got hurt on the nose too, and I'd just time to hand the greaser a left hander behind the ear, before I went down on top of Whiskers, and the four of us rolled in a heap. I learned when I was a sailor how to argue.
Then I struggled, dragging my pile of robbers off sideways, so that to keep me covered with the gun, poor Ginger showed his red head in the doorway. It was his life or mine, yet when the shot rang out from across the river, and I saw the lad come crashing to the ground, I felt sort of sick. Of course that shot slacked the grip of the three robbers, so I wrenched loose, struck hard, and jumped high, gaining the north wall of the cabin. When I turned round, our boys across the river were pouring hot lead after the robbers as they dived through the door of the shack. Ginger sprawled dead on the door-step, and my gun, six paces off, lay in the dust. The robbers were disarmed, and I was free.
"Boys," I called out to them, "you done like men. You put up a good fight and it ain't no shame to surrender."
Mr. Bull Brooke's voice answered.
"Jesse, old friend!"
I heard a crash inside and guessed that Mr. Brooke had been discouraged.
"Whiskers," I called, "don't make a mess of that cabin with Mr. Brooke."
"All right, young fellow," said Whiskers, "we've only put him back in the flour sack."