There's
only one thing more. I told Morgan there wasn't to be any gun-play in
his place today. If you hear any shootin' go down there an' remind
Morgan to take the guns off'n the men."
Kate nodded, but her stare travelled far away, and the thing she saw
was the yellow light burning in the eyes of Whistling Dan.
CHAPTER III
SILENT SHOOTS
It was a great day and also a sad one for Morgan. His general store
and saloon had been bought out by old Joe Cumberland, who declared
a determination to clear up the landscape, and thereby plunged the
cowpunchers in gloom. They partially forgave Cumberland, but only
because he was an old man. A younger reformer would have met armed
resistance. Morgan's place was miles away from the next oasis in the
desert and the closing meant dusty, thirsty leagues of added journey
to every man in the neighbourhood. The word "neighbourhood," of
course, covered a territory fifty miles square.
If the day was very sad for this important reason, it was also very
glad, for rustling Morgan advertised the day of closing far and wide,
and his most casual patrons dropped all business to attend the big
doings. A long line of buckboards and cattle ponies surrounded the
place.
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