“Sinclair,” protested Buck Mason, “you’re a pretty capable sort.  They ain’t no doubt of that.  But what if Jerry Bent comes home, which he’s sure to do before night?  There’d be a mess, because Jerry’d fight for Gaspar, I know!”

“Partner,” said Riley Sinclair dryly, “if it come to that, then I guess I’d have to fight back.”

It was foolish to question the power in that grave, sardonic face.  The other men gave way, nodding one by one.  Secretly each man, now that the excitement was gone, was glad that they had not proceeded to the last extremity.  In five minutes they were drifting away, and all this time Sinclair watched the face of John Gaspar, as the sorrow changed to wonder, and the wonder to the vague beginnings of happiness.

Suddenly he felt that he had the clue to the mystery of Cold Feet.  As a matter of fact John Gaspar had never grown up.  He was still a weak, dreamy boy.

10

The posse had hardly thrown its masks to the wind and galloped down the road when Sally Bent came running from the house.

“I knew they couldn’t,” she cried to John Gaspar.  “I knew they wouldn’t dare.  The cowards!  I’ll remember every one of them!”

“Hush!” murmured Gaspar.  His faint smile was for Riley Sinclair.  “One of them is still here, you see!”

With wrath flushing her face, the girl looked at Riley.

“How do you dare to stay here and face me—­after the things you said!”

“Lady,” replied Sinclair, “you mean after the things I made you say.”

“Just wait till Jerry comes,” exclaimed Sally.

At this Sinclair grew more sober.

“Honey,” he said dryly, “when your brother drops in, you just calm him down, will you?  Because if him and Gaspar together was to start in raising trouble—­well, they’d be more action than you ever seen in that cabin before.  And, after it was all over, they’d have a dead Gaspar to cart over to Woodville.  You can lay to that!”

It took Sally somewhat aback, this confident ferociousness.

“Them that brag ain’t always the ones that do things,” she declared.  “But why are you staying here?”

“To keep Gaspar till the sheriff comes for him.”

Sally grew white.

“Don’t you see that there’s nothing to be afraid of?” asked John Gaspar.  “See how close I came to death, and yet I was saved.  Why, God doesn’t let innocent men be killed, Sally.”

For a moment the girl stared at the schoolteacher with tears in her eyes; then she flashed at Riley a glance of utter scorn, as if inviting him to see what an angel upon the earth he was persecuting.  But Sinclair remained unmoved.

He informed them of the conditions of his stay.  He must be allowed to keep John Gaspar in sight at all times.  Only suspicious moves he would resent with violence.  Sally Bent heard all of this with openly expressed hatred and contempt.  John Gaspar showed no emotion whatever.