Riding fiercely into camp, Lot Smith demanded to see the captain.
"Captain Simpson is out huntin' cattle; and I guess if you want him you will have to hunt him," replied one of the teamsters.
"I'll look after your captain," bluntly announced Lot, and then cocking his own gun as a signal to his men to follow suit, he quietly added, "but you fellows can just fork over your shooting irons; we are wanting some implements of that kind just now."
There was a flash in the red-brown eyes of Lot Smith, and every teamster carefully gathered up his pistol or gun and delivered it over to Stevens, who distributed them among the men.
Leaving Stevens in charge of the camp, Lot Smith rode out to meet the captain, whose name was Simpson. He was driving in some animals, and Lot simply said: "Captain, I am here on urgent business."
The man addressed was no coward, and his eyes flashed as he demanded the nature of that business.
"Just hand over your pistols, and I will let you know the nature of it," answered Smith.
Spurring his horse towards the train, Simpson replied: "No man ever took my pistols yet; and if you think you can without first killing me, try it."
They were all the time riding full gallop towards the train.
"I admire a brave man, captain, but I don't like blood. You insist on me killing you, which would only take a minute, but I don't want to do it. If you will take the trouble to look that way, captain, instead of glaring into my eyes, you will see that your teamsters are in a ticklish situation."