A man rose from a seat against a tree trunk.
"Good evening," responded Johnny guardedly.
"You are the man who stuck up Scar-face Charley in Morton's place, ain't you?"
"What's that to you?" replied Johnny. "Are you a friend of his?"
His habitual air of young carelessness had fallen from him; his eye was steady and frosty, his face set in stern lines. Before my wondering eyes he had grown ten years older in the last six hours. The other was lounging toward us--a short, slight man, with flaxen moustache and eyebrows, a colourless face, pale blue eyes, and a bald forehead from which the hat had been pushed back. He was chewing a straw.
"Well, I was just inquirin' in a friendly sort of way," replied the newcomer peaceably.
"I don't know you," stated Johnny shortly, "nor who you're friends to, nor your camp. I deny your right to ask questions. Good night."
"Well, good night," agreed the other, still peaceable. "I reckon I gather considerable about you, anyhow." He turned away. "I had a notion from what I heard that you was sort of picked on, and I dropped round, sort of friendly like; but Lord love you! I don't care how many of you desperadoes kill each other. Go to it, and good riddance!" He cast his pale blue eyes on Johnny's rigid figure. "Also, go to hell!" he remarked dispassionately.
"Hold on!" he called, after a moment. "Then you're not a friend of this Hound?"
"Me? What are you talking about?" He looked from one to the other of us, then returned the few steps he had taken. "I believe you don't know me. I'm Randall, Danny Randall."
"I suppose I should know you, but I'm afraid I don't," confessed Johnny.
Randall turned back to the tree beneath which lay our effects.
"I believe I'll just have a cup of coffee with you boys," said he.
We blew up the fire, scoured the frying pan, made ourselves food. Randall brought a pail of water. We all ate together, without much conversation; then lit our pipes and piled on dry wood to make a brighter friendship fire.
"Now, boys," said Randall, "I'm going to ask you some questions; and you can answer me or not, just as you please. Only I'll say, it isn't just curiosity."
Johnny, who was studying him covertly from beneath the shadow of his hat, nodded briefly, but said nothing.