Ronicky Doones Reward | Page 5

was this: "I shall stand here calmly
upon the veranda, roll my cigarette, light and smoke it, and then depart.
And if I am able to do this in peace, then I shall consider myself at

liberty to go forth into the world and tell other men that I have bearded
the citizens of Twin Springs and come off unscathed."
This was all understood. Not only that, but it drew a scowl of rage from
the stupidest of the men on the veranda. They were challenged, and yet
they knew not how to rise to meet the challenge. Of course some one
could arise and, striding forward, shout an insult. But this would make
Blondy, if he were half of the man that he seemed to be, whirl upon his
heel and pump a stream of leaden slugs at the other. And gun play was
not what was desired. The rules of the game required that Blondy
should be taken in hand and disciplined for his folly. But the rules also
required that he should not be fatally injured unless he really made
himself obnoxious. Certainly that should not be done when such
tremendous odds were arrayed against him.
The quandary grew. The perspiration poured down the faces of those
horny-handed sons of battle. Not a man there but would have sooner
died than be shamed. But would could they do?
Ronicky Doone, fairly quivering with excitement, leaned forward and
scanned the line of faces. He saw hands go convulsively back and grasp
at gun butts and then drop, as though ashamed of the impulse. He saw
jaws thrusting out, as the rage for battle grew. But still there did not
arise any young Napoleon to show them the manner in which they
should strike in honor. One giant-limbed cow-puncher half arose from
his chair, as though about to stride up to Blondy and call to him to turn.
His shadow fell across the feet of Blondy, and Ronicky saw the hand of
the youth tremble, so that the thin line of smoke rising from the tobacco
quivered also. He was afraid, but it was no wonder. If the test were hard
on the many, how stern it must be for the one?
But the big man settled back in his chair with a fault sigh and a great
creaking of the chair, as it felt his weight. And now the cigarette was
half consumed!
"Good boy!" thought Ronicky. "Keep it up!"

He literally hurled the strength of his good will as a guardian cloud
around the form of Blondy. He shifted a little, so that his holster hung
well clear of the edge of his chair. If any one should make a mistake
and attempt to take a cowardly advantage of the fact that Blondy's back
was turned -- well, the mistake would never be regretted, because the
man would not live to repeat!
But there was no question of fair play. The cow-punchers were simply
combing the air for a courteous means of making Blondy turn upon
them. But if they could not find that, they would not bully him into a
fight. The cigarette, however, which was the time match of that strange
trial, was now almost burned out, and in an excess of careless
confidence Blondy stretched out his hand and snapped the cigarette
with his middle finger.
Alas, he struck it too hard. Not only were the ashes jarred off, but the
burning tobacco was loosened from the paper as well, and it dropped to
the floor of the veranda and fumed there. Not only that, but the loose
tobacco also streamed from the butt and left only a seared, fluttering
wisp of paper in the fingers of the big man.
The crisis had come. Would he dare to wait to roll another cigarette? Or
would his little accident give the slow-witted cow-punchers a clew to
some means of baiting Blondy?

CHAPTER III
BLONDY'S BLUNDER
He had not long to wait before there was an answer to the question. The
big man who had first risen, as though about to stride up to Blondy and
attack him, now sat forward again. No word had risen in his dull brain,
but he contrived to bring forth an immense laugh which fairly shook
the pillars supporting the veranda. More than all, that laughter broke
the spell. It dissolved the bewilderment of the other cow-punchers and
made them capable of action. It roused their brains until they could

function smoothly once more.
"Hey!" cried a man directly behind Blondy. "Hey, big fellow!"
Blondy did not turn, did not answer. Instead he drew forth cigarette
papers and tobacco, and again the heart of Ronicky Doone went out to
him. He was taking the hardest way out. He was going to try