Every one of these speeches came sharply out while they glared at
Jim Silent. Hands were beginning to fall to the hip and fingers were
curving stiffly as if for the draw. Silent leaned his broad shoulders
against the side of his roan and folded his arms. His eyes went round
the circle slowly, lingering an instant on each face. Under that cold
stare they grew uneasy. To Shorty Rhinehart it became necessary to
push back his hat and scratch his forehead. Terry Jordan found a
mysterious business with his bandana. Every one of them had occasion
to raise his hand from the neighbourhood of his six-shooter. Silent
smiled.
"A fine, hard crew you are," he said sarcastically at last. "A great
bunch of long riders, lettin' a slip of a yaller-haired girl make
fools of you. You over there--you, Shorty Rhinehart, you'd cut the
throat of a man that looked crosswise at the Cumberland girl, wouldn't
you? An' you, Purvis, you're aching to get at me, ain't you? An'
you're still thinkin' of them blue eyes, Jordan?"
Before any one could speak he poured in another volley between wind
and water: "One slip of a girl can make fools out of five long riders?
No, you ain't long riders.
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