"I agree with you, but we got to be careful--"
Willie grunted with disgust.
"--we can't go at it like we was killin' snakes. Mr. Speed is a
guest here."
Again the little gun man expressed his opinion, this time in
violet-tinted profanity, and the other cowboys joined in.
"All the same he _is_ a guest, and no rough work goes. I'm
in charge while Mr. Chapin is away, and I'm responsible."
"Senor Bill," Carara ventured, "the fat vaquero, he is no guest.
He is one of us."
"That's right," seconded Willie. "He's told us all along that Mr.
Speed was a Merc'ry-footed wonder, and if the young feller can't
run he had ought to have told us."
Mr. Cloudy showed his understanding of the discussion by nodding
silently.
"We'll put it up to him in the morning," said Stover.
"If Mr. Speed cannot r-r-run, w'at you do, eh?" questioned the
Mexican.
Nobody answered. Still Bill seemed at a loss for words, Mr.
Cloudy stared gloomily into space, and Willie ground his teeth.
On the following morning Speed sought a secluded nook with Helen,
but no sooner had he launched himself fairly upon the subject
uppermost in his mind than he was disturbed by a delegation of
cowboys, consisting of the original four who had waited upon him
that first morning after his arrival.
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