"Good for what?"
"You got cold feet?"
"I've got cold judgment. We're crazy. We haven't a chance in a million of getting the best of an outlaw with two hundred men."
"We can try, can't we?"
"Yes, and die, can't we!"
"Well—we might do worse. I'd sooner croak in harness than have an eight-horse funeral. But say, if you don't like it you go back and join those two fellows at the oasis. There'll be no hard words."
But I felt too afraid of my own opinion of myself to turn back at that stage of the game.
CHAPTER VIII
"He Cools His Wrath in the Moonlight, Communing with Allah!"
Now the desert at full moon is as light as Broadway, and the only shadows are those the camels cast, than which there is nothing more weird in the whole range of phantasmagoria. We looked like a string of glistening ghosts accompanied by goblins of a fourth dimension mocking us, and though you couldn't see the details of men's faces, looking back along the line you could see every movement and distinguish man from man.