Part 21 (1/2)
”They shall have fair play enough,” said the dark man. ”What about your friend, prisoners, is this he?”
”Prisoners!” gasped Abel. ”No, no; a friend who travelled with us.”
”Bah! Another lie, gentlemen,” cried Redbeard mockingly; ”they were alone, and shot my mate, so that it was two to two; but they took us in ambush like, and by surprise. They hadn't got no friend with 'em.”
”Yes, they had,” cried a loud voice which dominated the roar of anger which arose; ”they had me; I was along with 'em--only a little un, my sons, but big enough for you all to see.”
There was a laugh at this, but it was silenced by the dark man's voice.
”Silence, gentlemen, please,” he said, ”and no laughter where two men's lives are at stake.”
A chill ran through Dallas again, but he forced a smile at his cousin, as if to say, what he did not think, ”It will be all right now.”
”Look here,” cried the Cornishman, drawing himself up to his full height, and looking round as if to address every one present; ”these youngsters said what was quite right. They've been along with me and two more ever since we dug 'em out of the snow.”
”That's right, as far as I know,” said their acquaintance with the gold; ”there was a party of five when I came upon them to-night;” and a fresh murmur arose.
”It's all right, mates,” said Redbeard to his two companions; ”there's a gang of 'em, but don't you be skeared; these gents'll see justice done.”
”Well, I don't mind being called one of a gang, my sons,” said the Cornishman. ”I worked on the railway once, and I was ganger, or, as you call it here, boss, over a dozen men; but if this chap, who looks as red as if he'd come out of a tin-mine, says I robbed him, I'll crack him like I would a walnut in a door.”
There was a roar of laughter here, and cries of ”Well done, little un!”
But the dark man sternly called for silence once more.
”Now, sir, what do you say to this?” he said to Redbeard sharply.
”What I said before, boss. That big chap wasn't with 'em then. I say these two young larrikins tried to rob and do for us. Look at his leg!”
”Robbed yer and tried to do for yer? Did they, now! Well, they do look a pair of bad uns, don't they, my sons?--bad as these three looks good and innercent and milky.”
”Hear him!” growled Redbeard fiercely. ”Talking like that, with my poor mate suffering from a wound like this, pardners,” and he pointed to his companion's leg.
”Get out!” roared the Cornishman scornfully; ”put that sore prop away; you're talking to men, not a set of bairns. Think they're going to be gammoned by a bit of play-acting?”
There was another loud murmur of excitement, the occupants of the canvas building crowding up closer, evidently thoroughly enjoying the genuine drama being enacted in their presence, and eager to see the _denouement_, even if it only proved to be a fight between the two giants taking now the leading parts.
The man with the red beard felt that matters were growing critical for the accusers, while public opinion was veering round in favour of the prisoners; and resting one hand upon his hip, and flouris.h.i.+ng his pipe with the other, he took a step forward, his eyes full of menace, and faced the Cornishman.
”Look ye here, old un,” he growled, ”I'm a plain, straightforward, honest man, as has come up here to try and get a few sc.r.a.ps o' red gold.”
”Same here, my lad.”
”And I want to know whether you mean all that 'ere nasty, or whether you mean it nice?”
”Just as you like, my son,” cried the Cornishman. ”You've told the company here that my two young friends tried to rob and settle you. I tell the company that it's as big a lie as was ever spoke.”
”Well!” growled the man again, and he looked round at his companions; ”of all--”
”Yes,” said the Cornishman, ”an out-and-out lie; and I could play the same cards as you, and show judge here and all of you the mark of your bullets in one of my young friends' shoulder, and on the other's skull.