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Higbee, amiably, "I ain't stuck any myself on this way of trimming up a man's face, but the madam will have it this way says it looks more refined and New Yorky. And now, do you know, ever since I've wore 'em this way ever since I had 'em scraped from around under my neck here I have to go to Florida every winter. Come January or February, I get bronchitis every blamed year!"
"Bring water, Dick, and tell Doc Lee to come at once. He'll be in the back room smoking. Hurry!" She looked fiercely round upon the men assembled. "I think they have killed him. Who did this? Was it you, Yorky? Was it you that murdered him?" "I bane t'ink it take von hoondred of them to do it," said Siegfried. "Dat fallar, Johnson, he bane at the bottom of it." "Then why didn't you kill him?
"I don't reckon we better go any farther with this thing, Yorky." "No, I don't reckon you had," cut in Dick sharply. "I'll not stand for it." Again the footsteps of a running man reached them. It was Siegfried. He plunged into the group like a wild bull, shook the hair out of his eyes, and planted himself beside Fraser. With one backward buffet of his great arm he sent Johnson heels over head.
I'll stand for being an aider and abettor, but I reckon if there's any hanging to be done you'll have to be the sheriff," replied Yorky stiffly. Struve turned his sinister face on one and another of them. His lips were drawn back, so that the wolfish teeth gleamed in the moonlight. He felt himself being driven into a trap, from which there was no escape.
The men looked at each other, and at Struve. Were they being led into trouble to pay this man's scores off for him? Suspicion stirred uneasily in them. "That's right, too. Let Johnson pull him up," Slim Leroy said sullenly. "Sure. You've got more at stake than we have. It's up to you, Johnson," Yorky agreed. "That's right," a third chipped in. "We'll all pull together, boys," Struve insinuated.
"What do you want, Yorky?" "You know what we want. That murderer you've got there that's what we want." "We're taking him in to be tried, Yorky. Justice will be done to him." "Not at Gimlet Butte it won't. No jury will convict him for killing Jed Briscoe, from Lost Valley. We're going to hang him, right now."
York, with his eyes still fixed on the old man, withdrew the hand with which he had taken his. "Didn't we fool 'em nicely; eh, Yorky! He, he! The biggest thing yet ever played in this camp! I always said I'd play 'em all some day, and I have played 'em for six months. Ain't it rich? ain't it the richest thing you ever seed?
Hard as it had been for him to save himself, it was more difficult still to rescue the body from the sharks. Frantically using rough-and-ready methods, he hauled it on board, and disposed it as decently as circumstances permitted. "Yorky," great of heart, is quite unused to the melting mood. He admits that he felt pretty bad mentally.
Soapy crushed the irrepressible Yorky with a look, but that young man hit back smilingly. "Soapy, he sells soap, ma'am. He's a sorter city salesman, I reckon." "I should never have guessed it. Mr. Sothern does not LOOK like a salesman," said the girl, with a glance at his shrewd, hard, expressionless face. "Yes, ma'am, he's a first-class seller of soap, is Mr.
"It ain't you that's taking my spondulix in, you big, overgrown Swede!" returned Yorky amiably. "It's the gent from Texas. How can a fellow buck against luck that fills from a pair to a full house on the draw?" The blond giant, Siegfried who was not a Swede, but a Norwegian announced that he was seventeen dollars in the game himself. Tommie, already broke, and an onlooker, reported sadly.
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