The Forfeit | Page 7

of liver souse, an' hand us a smile, Ju. Your
face is sure killin' trade."
Ju rolled his cigar across his mouth under the curtain of moustache, lit

it, and proceeded to push an uncorked bottle across to his customers.
"Guess it ain't a bad proposition handin' you boys a smile. Smiles allus
happen easy on foolish faces. Seein' I ain't deaf I been listenin' to your
talk, an' I ain't made up my mind if you're as bright as you're guessin',
or if you're the suckers your talk makes you out. Seein' I don't usual
take chances, I'll put my dollars on the sucker business. I've stood
behind this darned old bar fer ten years, an' I guess for five of 'em I've
listened to talk like yours--from fellers like you." He removed the bottle
from which the three men had helped themselves to liberal "four
fingers," and eyed their glasses askance. "Now, you're worritin' over
this lousy Lightfoot gang. So was the others. So's everybody bin fer
five years. An' fer five years this same lousy Lightfoot gang has just
been helpin' 'emselves to the cattle on the ranches around here--liberal.
Same as youse fellers have helped yourselves out o' this bottle. An',
durin' that time, I ain't heard tell of one o' them boys who's been spoilin'
to hang 'em all doin' a thing. Not a thing, 'cep' it's lap up whisky to keep
up a supply o' hot air.
"Wal," he proceeded, in his biting fashion, as he thrust the bottle on the
shelf and began wiping glasses with a towel that looked to be
decomposing for want of soap, "them lousy rustlers is still running their
play in the district jest wher', when, an' how they darn please. See? You,
Curly, are kickin' because your boss Dug McFarlane is too much of a
gentleman. Wal, if I know a man from a seam-squirrel, I'd sure say
Dug's got more savee in his whiskers than you got dirt--which is some.
If I got things right, this night's sittin's goin' to put paid to the Lightfoot
gang's account. I'd be glad to say the same of one or two scores three
bums have lately run up right here."
The offensiveness of his manner left the men quite undisturbed. The
place would have been strange to them without it. They accepted it as
part of the evening's entertainment. But the allusion to the Vigilance
Committee's efforts brought them into attitudes of close attention. It
drew the attention, too, of the cattleman with the refined features, and,
equally, that of the tough-looking individual at the far end of the bar.
"What are they goin' to do?" demanded Dan urgently.

Ju puffed aggravatingly at his cigar.
"Do?" he echoed at last, gazing distantly at the card players across the
room. "Why, what any bunch of savee should ha' done five years ago.
Put out a great reward."
Curly snorted in disdain.
"See, I tho't it was to be a big play."
"You allus was bright," sneered Dan. "How's that goin' to fix the
Lightfoot crowd?"
"How?" Ju's contempt always found an outlet in the echo of an
opponent's interrogation. "Say, Dan, how old are you? Twenty?"
"That ain't nuthin' to you," the cowpuncher retorted, with a gesture of
hot impatience.
"Ain't it? Wal, mebbe it ain't," Ju agreed imperturbably. "But y'see it
takes years an' years gettin' the value o' dollars right. I allow ther's folks
guesses dollars talks. Wal, I'm guessin' they just holler. Make the wad
big enough and ther' ain't nuthin' you can't buy from a wheat binder to a
royal princess with a crown o' jools. The only thing you're li'ble to have
trouble over is the things Natur' fancies handin' you fer--nix. That an'
hoss sense. That's pretty well the world to-day, no matter what the
sky-pilots an' Sunday-school ma'ams dope out in their fancy literature. I
know. You offer ten thousand dollars for the hangin' of Lightfoot's
gang, an', I say right here, there ain't a feller in it from Lightfoot--if
there is sech a feller--down, who wouldn't make a grab at that wad by
givin' the rest of the crowd away. Makes you think, don't it? Sort o'
worries them empty think tanks o' yours."
But Ju's satisfaction received an unexpected shaking.
"Some wind," observed the slim, lonely drinker, in the blandest
fashion.

Ju was round on him in a flash, his walrus moustache bristling.
"I'm listening," he said, with a calmness which belied his attitude.
The other set his glass down on the counter with a bump.
"If you're listening," he said, "you have probably understood what I
said. You're talking through a fog of cynicism which seems to obscure
an otherwise fairly competent intellect. You've plundered so many
innocents in your time by purveying