He smiled grimly to himself, reading
their minds. He was more determined than ever to stand or fall with
Whistling Dan that day.
There was not an officer of the law in sight. If one were present it
would be his manifest duty to apprehend the outlaws as soon as they
appeared, and the plan was to allow them to fight out their quarrel
and perhaps kill each other.
Arguments began to rise among separate groups, where the crimes
attributed to Whistling Dan Barry were numbered and talked over. It
surprised Buck to discover the number who believed the stories which
he and Haines had told. They made a strong faction, though manifestly
in the minority.
Hardly a man who did not, from time to time, nervously fumble the butt
of his six-gun. As three o'clock drew on the talk grew less and less.
It broke out now and again in little uneasy bursts. Someone would tell
a joke. Half hysterical laughter would greet it, and die suddenly,
as it began. These were all hard-faced men of the mountain-desert,
warriors of the frontier. What unnerved them was the strangeness of
the thing which was about to happen. The big wooden clock on the side
of the long barroom struck once for half-past two.
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