Some day, he promised himself vengefully, those two--yes, and the
whole group of murderers moving briskly away from the tent--would pay
for that outrage; and he prayed that the day might come soon.
He went heavily into the big room where men were already foregathering
to gossip between drinks of the trial and of the man who was to die.
Bill bethought him of the young stranger; made some inquiries of
certain inoffensive individuals among the crowd, and sent Jim out with
instructions to find the kid and bring him back with him.
Bill was standing in the door waiting for Jim to return, when, in a
swirl of dust, came Dade galloping around a corner and to the
very doorstep before he showed any desire to slow up. At the first
tightening of the reins, the white horse stiffened his front legs, dug
two foot-long furrows and stopped still. Bill had no enthusiasm for
the perfect accomplishment of the trick. He stood with his hands
thrust deep into his pockets and regarded the rider glumly.
"Well, you got here," he grunted, with the brevity of utter misery.
"You bet I did! I was away from the hacienda when the peon came, or
I'd have got here sooner," Dade explained cheerfully, swinging to the
ground with a jingle of his big, Mexican spurs that had little silver
bells to swell the tinkly chimes when he moved. "Where's Jack?"
Big Bill Wilson's jaw trembled with an impulse towards tears which
the long, harsh years behind him would not let him shed.
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