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Updated: June 16, 2025
Sometimes they can't help it, and they drink more when women show that they have lost confidence in them." He liked what she had said, notwithstanding its being an indirect defence of Wambush, but was prevented from answering by hearing his name angrily called in the street. This was followed by heavy footsteps on the veranda. "Whar is that d d livery man?" The voice was now in the hall.
"I 'low myself we've been a leetle bit hasty," admitted the leader. "Put down that gun! Drap it!" cried Jim Hunter, turning suddenly on Toot Wambush. "Ef you dare to cock a gun in this crowd, you'll never live to hear it bang!" Wambush started to raise his revolver again, but Hunter knocked it from his hand. Wambush stooped to pick it up, but the old man kicked it out of his reach.
"Not this chicken," a voice muttered, and a white form whipped his horse over to Wambush's. "I'm with you," said another. Then there was a clamor of voices, and all the gang gathered round Wambush. He chuckled and swore softly. "That's the stuff!" he said. "Them's Cohutta men a-talkin'; you kin bet yore sweet life." Harriet turned to Westerfelt. "They are drinking," she said.
I have my troubles and you have yours that is," he added, quickly, as she shot a sudden glance of inquiry at him, "I reckon you have troubles, most girls do." "Yes, I have my troubles, Mr. Westerfelt," she said, simply. "Sometimes I think I cannot bear mine, but I do." He said nothing, but his eyes were upon her almost with a look of fear. Was she about to tell him frankly of her love for Wambush?
My Lord, that man'll see the day he'll wish he'd never laid eyes on Wambush." "I hain't in entire sympathy with Toot." It was Dill's voice. "That is to say, not entire!" "Well, don't say so, ef you know what's good fer you." "Oh, it's a free country, I reckon." "Don't you believe it!" "What's Toot gwine to do?" "I don't know, but he'll hatch out some'n."
Westerfelt advanced towards Wambush, but when he was within a few feet of him, Wambush suddenly drew a revolver, cocked it, and deliberately raised it. Westerfelt stopped and looked straight into Wambush's eyes. "I'm unarmed," said he; "I never carry a pistol; is that the way you do your fighting?" "That's yore lookout, not mine, d n you!"
He was still looking at the spot where Harriet Floyd had stood. "It simply means the halter, you blamed fool!" Wambush stared into the mask of the speaker, and then reluctantly rode away. When Harriet returned she found Westerfelt lying face downward on the floor. In his fall he had unconsciously clutched and torn down the curtain, and like a shroud it lay over him.
He leaned over the dash-board and impatiently called out to old Wambush: "How long are they going to keep us?" "Tell kingdom come ur Gabriel blows his horn," laughed the old man, and all his family and the neighbors who were sharing the hospitality of his wagon joined in the laugh. It was a thing the old man would have said to anybody else and in the same tone, but it irritated Westerfelt.
The silence of the couple behind convinced him that it was Bates and Harriet, for men in love do not talk much. Mrs. Wambush turned her head and took off her gingham bonnet to get a good look at the man her son had tried twice to kill. Her features were so much like Toot's that Westerfelt, who had never seen her before, thought he had discovered the fountain-head of the young outlaw's villany.
Only one of the band showed a revolver. Westerfelt believed him to be Toot Wambush. He had not spoken a word, but was one of the two that had ridden close behind him up the mountain. One of the white figures unstrapped a pillow from the back part of his saddle. He held it between his knees and gashed it with a knife. "By hunkey! they're white uns," he grunted, as he took out a handful.
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