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Updated: June 1, 2025
The surviving Mexican rode to Showdown with Scar-Face and his companions, received his share of the sale in cash, which he squandered at The Spider's place, and straightway rode back across the border to rejoin his captainless comrades and appoint himself their leader, gently insinuating that he himself had shot the captain whom he had apprehended in the treachery of betraying them to a rival aggregation of ragged Liberties, Fraternities, and Equalities.
"I should think they would be safer inside the cabin," I suggested. "Sure," agreed Danny, "but I want them here for the moral effect." We entered the cabin. The five prisoners were standing or sitting. Scar-face Charley was alternately blaspheming violently, upbraiding his companions, cursing his own luck, and uttering frightful threats against everybody who had anything to do with this.
Nevertheless, when the camp had been struck and the canoes loaded, the order of march was reversed. Now the men took the lead by a good margin, and the women and children followed. For in the wooded country game drinks early. "Can you read Injun writin'?" asked Dick. "I can't." "Yes," replied Sam, "learned her when I was snowed up one winter with Scar-Face down by the Burwash Lake country."
Scar-Face had met this chieftain by appointment at an abandoned ranch-house. Argument ensued. The Mexican talked grandiloquently of "Liberty, Fraternity, and Equality." Scar-Face held out for cash. The Mexican leader needed beef. Scar-Face needed money.
The Spidery mental ledger read: "Scar-Face Debit, chuck, liquor, and lodging" an account of long standing "and forty dollars in cash. Credit twenty head of cattle, brand unknown." Scar-Face's account was squared for the time being. Pete was also on The Spider's books, and according to The Spider's system of accounts, Pete was heavily in debt to him.
Danny Randall and his friends rushed determinedly to the centre of disturbance. Some men were carrying out Scar-face Charley. Others were talking excitedly. A little clear space surrounded the roulette table, at which, as may be imagined, Johnny was now the only player. Quite methodically he laid three more bets. "I think that's enough for now," he told the dealer pleasantly, and turned away.
Am I right?" Smoke nodded, and continued to nod to each question. "He's got one cheek half gone where a bald-face grizzly swatted him. Am I right? He's a dog-trader right, eh? His name is Scar-Face Jim. That's so, ain't it? D'ye get my drift?" "You mean we've been bidding ?" "Against each other. Sure thing. That squaw's his wife, an' they keep house on the hill back of the hospital.
Danny Randall broke in on this exchange. "You are about to be executed," said he soberly. "If you have any dying requests to make, this is your last opportunity. They will be carefully heeded." Scar-face Charley broke in with a rough laugh. "How do I look, boys, with a halter around my neck?" he cried. This grim effort was received in silence. "Your time is very short," Danny reminded him.
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