“These yere fixings will come in handy pretty soon, I reckon,” he remarked significantly, and stood quietly on the edge of the rock, holding a powerful field-glass to his eyes.

“They ’ve brought ther night-shift up ter the top,” he commented finally, “an they ’re ‘rousin’ them others outer ther bunk-house.  Hell ’ll be piping hot presently.  ‘Bout half them fellers are a-totin’ guns, too.  Ah, I thought so—­thar goes a lad horseback, hell-bent-fer-’lection down the trail, huntin’ after more roughs, I reckon.  Well, ther more ther merrier, as ther ol’ cat said when she counted her kittens.  Darned ef they ain’t got a reg’lar skirmish line thrown out ’long ther gulch yonder.  Yer bet they mean business for shore, Stutter, ol’ boy.”

Brown, deliberately engaged in pouring the coffee, contented himself with a slight grunt, and a quick glance in the direction indicated.  Hicks slowly closed his glasses, and seated himself comfortably on the edge of the rock.  Winston, already eating, but decidedly anxious, glanced at the two emotionless faces with curiosity.

“The situation does n’t seem to worry either of you very much,” he said at last.  “If you really expect an attack from those fellows over there, is n’t it about time we were arranging for some defence?”

Hicks looked over at him across the rim of his tin cup.

“Defence?  Hell! here ‘s our defence—­four o’ us, countin’ Mike.”

“Where is Mike?”

“Oh, out yonder in ther back yard amusin’ that Swede Stutter yere brought in ter him fer a playthin’.  Them foreigners seem ter all be gittin’ mighty chummy o’ late.  Stutter yere is a-takin’ up with Greasers, an’ Mike with Swedes.  I reckon I ‘ll have ter be lookin’ round fer an Injun, er else play a lone hand purty soon.”

Brown, his freckled face hotly flushed, his eyes grown hard, struck the rock with clinched hand.

“D-d-damn you, B-Bill,” he stuttered desperately, his great chest heaving.  “I-I ’ve had jist ‘nough o’ th-th-thet sorter talk.  Yer s-s-spit out ’nuther word ‘bout her, an’ th-th-thar ‘ll be somethin’ e-else a-doin’.”

Old Hicks laughed, his gray goat-beard waggling, yet it was clearly evident he appreciated the temper of his partner, and realized the limit of patience.

“Oh, I ‘ll pass,” he confessed genially.  “Lord!  I hed a touch o’ that same disease oncet myself.  But thar ain’t no sense in yer fightin’ me, Stutter; I bet yer git practice ’nough arter awhile, ’less them thar black eyes o’ hern be mighty deceivin’.  But that thar may keep.  Jist now we ‘ve got a few other p’ints ter consider.  You was askin’ about our defence, Mr. Winston, when this yere love-sick kid butted in?”

“Yes.”

“Well, it ‘s ther lay o’ ther ground, an’ four good rifles.  Thet ’s ther whole o’ it; them fellers over yonder can’t get in, an’ I ’m damned if we kin git out.  Whichever party gits tired first is the one what’s goin’ ter git licked.”