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Updated: May 2, 2025
Sandy Baker fidgeted about at one time tinkering with his gun and equipments, and then stopping half-way in the task he had started and falling into a fit of musing. Little Pete Skidmore wandered about, looking into Si's and Shorty's grave faces, and then into others equally solemn, and finding no comfort in any.
One hand on the man's throat and his knees on his chest, the tramp tore off the breathing mask and goggles. Already he had the man trussed up and gagged. Quickly the tramp undressed the man and left him in his underclothes, still struggling to get loose, as he took Shorty's clothes, including the strange head-gear, and unlocked the door into the next room with the key he also took from him.
The proposition met the favor of the other players, and the "banker" was constrained to comply. "Now," said Shorty, as the money was counted down, "I've jest $20 more that says that I'll win. Put her up alongside." The "banker" was game. He pulled out a roll and said as he thumbed it over: "I'll see you $20, and go you $50 better that I win." Shorty's heart beat a little faster.
"Well, go out and pick up that many of the right kind of boys, bring them here, and have them all ready by 10 o'clock. You can find guns and ammunition for them in that room upstairs." Shorty's first thought was of his old friend, Bob Ramsey, Sergeant of the Provost-Guard. He found him, and said: "See here, Bob, I've got something on hand better'n roundin' up stragglers and squelchin' whisky rows.
I know the minute she's through working on muscle and starts working on her nerve, and when that time comes, I stop. I've put up in the middle of nowheres to let her get back her wind. Kill her? Nope, lady, and the only reason Shorty's hoss was so used up was because he plumb insisted on keeping up with us!" And Marianne nodded. Ordinarily such a speech would have drawn argument from her.
Let 'em have your guns," she said, and she caught Si's with such quick unexpectedness that she wrenched it from his grasp and flung it to the man who wanted Shorty's. She threw one arm around Shorty's neck, with a hug so muscular that his breath failed, and she wrenched his gun away. She kept this in her hand, however.
"Say, Shorty," said Balaam, his head still slanted over, "what's the figures of your bank balance just now?" "I ain't usin' banks," murmured the youth. Balaam put some more grapes on Shorty's plate, and drawing a cigar from his waistcoat, sent it rolling to his guest. "Matches are behind you," he added.
Even the Aid began to understand the drift of Shorty's remarks by this time, and Capt. McGillicuddy called out warningly: "Shorty! Shorty!" Si looked in amazement at this new development of his partner's genius. The officers and men on the other side of the branch seemed to have forgotten for the moment the annoyance of the balked team in enjoyment of Shorty's outburst.
"We'll knock off all but about a dozen. They'll have to lend a hand. We can relay them. And we'll keep up the spruce-tea." "It ain't no good." "I'm about ready to agree with that, too, but at any rate it doesn't hurt them." "Another suicide," was Shorty's news the following morning. "That Phillips is the one. I seen it comin' for days." "We're up against the real thing," Smoke groaned.
"I'm tellin' you what it'll do," Doble insisted dogmatically. "Shorty with you?" "He was, an' he wasn't. I did it while he wasn't lookin'. He was saddlin' his horse in the brush. Don't make any breaks to him. Shorty's got a soft spot in him. Game enough, but with queer notions.
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