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As the Boy buttoned the fur-lined flap down over their heads he felt angrier with the Colonel than he had ever been before. "Took good care to hang on to his own shootin'-iron. Suppose anything should happen"; and he said it over and over. Exactly what could happen he did not make clear; the real danger was not from wolves, but it was something.
"He hain't went off with that thar shootin'-iron on his shoulder fur nothin'," thought Dan. "He's goin' huntin' with them Gordon fellers, and he'll have a nice time an' get somethin' good to eat, while I must go without my dinner, dog-gone it, kase thar hain't nobody here to cook it fur me. They don't take half so much notice of me as they would if I was a pinter dog!"
I don't mind tellin' you now, I'd me shootin'-iron here" he touched his right hip "an' if you'd refused you was the third, mind you, I'd have drilled you where you stood, God damn me if I wouldn't!" Mahony eyed the speaker with derision. "Much good that would have done your wife, you fathead! Well, well, we'll say nothing to MINE, if you please, about anything of that sort."
This man had a keen, white, lean face, with an ascetic, abstemious expression, and he looked less like a distiller than some sort of divine some rustic pietist, with strange theories and unhappy speculations and unsettled mind. It was a face of subtle influences, and the very sight of it roused in Nehemiah a more heedful fear than the "shootin'-iron" in the bluff moonshiners hand had induced.
The night was almost as bright as the day, but cool and dank, full of sylvan fragrance and restful silence and a romantic liberty. The blacksmith carried his rifle, for wolves were often abroad in the wilderness. Two or three others were similarly armed; the advanced thinker had a hunting-knife, Job Grinnell a pistol that went by the name of "shootin'-iron." The musician carried no weapon.
Either y'ought to 'a' let this here hell-roarin' maverick alone or else you should 'a' put him clean out o' business when you had holt o' his shootin'-iron. An' I ain't a bit happy. And then jes' at this stage o' the proceedings occurs what youse 'ud call a diversion. "It seemed that that wood stump didn't go clean to the river as I first figured, but stuck three-fourths the way down.
"And, say, it's a good idea not to pack a shootin'-iron and let folks know you don't pack one." "I think I understand," said Bartley. "Ride over to my camp, any time, and if I'm not there, just make yourself to home." And the big miner turned and started his burros toward the hills. "Give my regards to Cheyenne," called Bartley. The miner nodded.
Shure I could pick the eye out o' yez shure I could shoot a louse off yer ear, says I. 'Anger me, says I, 'an' I'll murther the whole parish; raise a stick to me, an' I'll shlaughter the whole counthry side. An' wid that I cocked me little shootin'-iron. "Ye should have seen that shebeen-keeper; ye should have seen the whole o' them whin I raised me voice an' lifted me little Colt!
Howsomdever, I got the thing rigged at last, an' the blanket hangin' up in front kivered my karkidge most complete. I hed nothin' more to do but wait till the goats shed come 'ithin range o' my shootin'-iron. "Wal, that wan't long.
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