“You think there's much chance of that?” said some one.
“Sure there be!” cried Mike Sikoria. “One time in Cedar Mountain we go see boss, say air-course blocked. What you think he do them fellers? He hit them one lick in nose, he kick them three times in behind, he run them out!”
“Well,” said Hal, “if there's going to be anything like that, we must be ready.”
“What you do?” demanded Jerry.
It was time for Hal's leadership. “If he hits me one lick in the nose,” he declared, “I'll hit him one lick in the nose, that's all.”
There was a bit of applause at this. That was the way to talk! Hal tasted the joys of his leadership. But then his fine self-confidence met with a sudden check—a “lick in the nose” of his pride, so to speak. There came a woman's voice from the corner, low and grim: “Yes! And get ye'self killed for all your trouble!”
He looked towards Mary Burke, and saw her vivid face, flushed and frowning. “What do you mean?” he asked. “Would you have us turn and run away?”
“I would that!” said she. “Rather than have ye killed, I would! What'll ye do if he pulls his gun on ye?”
“Would he pull his gun on a committee?”
Old Mike broke in again. “One time in Barela—ain't I told you how I lose my cars? I tell weigh-boss somebody steal my cars, and he pull gun on me, and he say, 'Get the hell off that tipple, you old billy-goat, I shoot you full of holes!'”