hen we emptied out. They cussed an' groaned consid'able; but they
surged on into the cabin, just the same. The smoke was like a cloud
inside, an' a newcomer couldn't see an inch; so I backed into my corner
with my left arm danglin' at my side an' holdin' my gun by the barrel.

The shootin' stopped in a flash an' the silence hurt a feller's ears.
The' was a sloppy, floppin' sound over under the table an' now an'
again a low groan. "Fetch the lantern out o' the freight wagon, an'
let's chalk up." said a deep, heavy voice. In about a minute a light
ripped its way into darkness an' I never saw a worse sight. Jabez was
lyin' face down with a hairy viper on top of him face up. The feller'd
been pinked in the bridge o' the nose an' it was most horrid ghastly.
Two others lay still with their bodies inside the shack an' their legs
outside; while another was lyin' just at my feet. Some one had swatted
him in the temple with a revolver butt; but the sight that just about
made me homesick was Jim, the deputy cook.

Monody hadn't broken the windpipe, an' he wasn't dead yet. It was him
'at made the floppin' sound. Oh, it was sickening! Brophy was a fine
lookin' man--I recognized him from his description right at once--an'
he hadn't been even grazed. He looked around cool but quick, an' just
about took it all in, in the snap of a finger. Then he loaded both his
guns before us an' made the feller with the lantern do the same. After
which he looked into Monody's eyes--looked into 'em until Monody's ugly
black face turned ashy; but Brophy hadn't even a scowl, an' when he
spoke, his deep voice was steady an' calm. "How did that happen,
Monody?" sez he, pointin' to the sub-cook.

"I--I reckon one o' the boys mistook him in the dark," sez Monody.

"I reckon you lie," sez Brophy. "The' ain't no white man would be beast
enough. It's one o' your own heathen tricks."

I was surprised at the way Brophy talked. I'd allus heard 'at he was a
rip-snortin' screamer, an' here he was talkin' low an' level like, as
if he was conversin' about the weather; but when I looked into Monody's
face an' saw it gray an' quivery, I knew 'at Brophy wasn't no bluffer,
whether he yelled or whether he whispered.

I moved about an inch 'cause my leg was strainin', an' three guns
dropped on me. "Don't try nothin'," sez Brophy. I didn't--I stood
mighty still.

The man under the table give a gaspy squawk, Brophy dropped on one knee
to look at him, an' I could see h