former aplomb and fearing he had lost caste because of his mishap with Hunter, swaggered forward with a camp-ax in his hand and loudly called out:
"Ev'ry one step aside. I'll cut this young rooster's comb.… Gawdfrey!"
He came to an abrupt halt and rubbed his chin and grinned foolishly. To Prevost he explained:
"This hyar younker is th' one what did for Mal Phinny of th' A. F. C. outfit. Killed him las' night in a fight on Bloody Island. All St. Louis heard about it just as I was leavin' Tilton's bar to git here on time."
"Then he done a mighty good job. Wish he'd done for ol' Parker," shouted one of the men, relaxing into a peaceful attitude. "If ye done that Malcom skunk ye needn't bother to keep yer gun p'inted this way, Mister Doolest."
"Jim Bridger know about the fight?" inquired Prevost, his voice shading off into courtesy.
"He gave the word for us to fire," replied Lander without shifting his rifle or relaxing his watchfulness.
"Then we've had enough of this hoss-play," said Prevost. "S'long as Bridger sent you, then you must belong. But I want to say right now
