towards the little procession that was just coming into sight at the
end of the rambling street, with the crowd closing in behind it as the
water comes surging together behind an ocean liner.

Jim worshiped his boss, but he knew better than to argue with him when
Bill happened to be in that particular mood, which, to tell the truth,
was not often. But in five minutes or less he had forgotten the snub.
His head popped in again.

"Bill!"

There may be much meaning in a tone, though it utters but one
unmeaning word. Bill dropped a handful of nails upon a table and came
striding down the long room to the door; pushed Jim unceremoniously
aside and stood upon the step. He was just in time to look into the
rageful, blue eyes of Jack Allen, walking with a very straight back
and a contemptuous smile on his lips, between the Captain and one of
his trusted lieutenants.

Bill's fingers clenched suggestively upon the handle of the hammer.
His jaw slackened and then pushed itself forward to a fighting angle
while he stared, and he named in his amazement that place which the
padres had taught the Indians to fear.

The Captain heard him and grinned sourly as he passed on. Jack heard
him, and his smile grew twisted at the tone in which the word was
uttered; but he still smiled, which was more than many a man would
have done in his place.

Bill stood while the rest of that grim procession passed his place.