betrayed his real concern. "Don't take it to heart, Bill," he said,
dropping his bantering and his stubbornness together. "I won't air my
views quite so publicly, after this. I know I was a fool to talk quite
as straight as I did last night; but some one else brought up the
subject of Sandy; and Swift called him a name Sandy'd have smashed him
in the face for, if he'd been alive and heard it. I always liked the
fellow, and it made me hot to see them hustle him out of town and hang
him like they'd shoot a dog that had bitten some one, when I _knew_ he
didn't deserve it. You or I would have shot, just as quick as he did,
if a drunken Spaniard made for us with a knife. So would the Captain,
or Swift, or any of the others.

"I know--I've got a nasty tongue when something riles me, and I lash
out without stopping to think. Dade has given me the devil for that,
more times than I can count. He went after me about this very thing,
too, the other day. I'll try and forget about Sandy; it doesn't make
pleasant remembering, anyway. And I'll promise to count a hundred
before I mention the Committee above a whisper, after this--nine
hundred and ninety-nine before I take the name of Swift or the Captain
in vain!" He smiled full at Bill--a smile to make men love him for the
big-hearted boy he was.

But Bill did not grin back. "Well, it won't hurt you any; they're bad
men to fuss with, both of 'em," he warned somberly.

"Come on out and climb a hill or two with me," Jack urged. "You've
got worse kinks in your system, to-day, than I've got in my legs. You
won't? Well, better go back and take another sleep, then; it may put
you in a more optimistic mood." He went off up the street towards the
hills to the south, turning in at the door of a tented eating-place