Young Wild West at Forbidden Pass | Page 3

our hero answered, coolly. "It seems that they are trying to pick a row just because we have on better clothes than they have. If they are looking for anything like that I reckon they can get it mighty quick."
"Wow!" exclaimed the most talkative of the three cowboys. "Did you hear that, boys? Well, well! Who would have thought it?"
Cheyenne Charlie acted as though he would like to take a hand in the controversy, but he managed to keep quiet.
Jim Dart and the girls were looking on with smiles on their faces, while the Chinaman, looking out of the doorway, over the shoulder of the keeper of the saloon, actually grinned with delight.
They all knew that Young Wild West was quite able to take care of all three of the men if it became necessary and they also knew that something was likely to happen very soon.
The two companions of the talkative cowboy laughed uproariously.
They evidently agreed with him that the boy was away off in his remarks.
Cheyenne Charlie could keep still no longer.
"Jest show ther galoots that yer ain't foolin', Wild," he said. "Shake 'em up it little."
"Lat light, Misler Wild!" called out the Chinaman, from the door. "Makee allee samee be polite, so be."
"Shet up, you heathen!" roared the nearest cowboy, and with that he caught the Celestial by the pig-tail and pulled him out.
A kick followed this and the Son of the Flowery Kingdom let out a yell of pain.
Biff!
Young Wild West darted forward and struck the cowboy a blow on the breast that sent him reeling.
"If you insist on it I'll give it to you good and straight," he said, calmly. "How do you like that?"
Biff!
This time he landed one on the man's ribs, and down he went in a heap.
The other two started to interfere, but out went the boy's left and one of them landed on all fours in a jiffy.
Spat!
Our hero's right caught the other on the chin and he went, too.
As was to be expected, all three of the cowboys made moves to pull their guns.
But Young Wild West got ahead of them.
"Let go of those playthings--quick!" he shouted. "I will show you galoots that you have got to be more civil with us. Get up and say you are sorry for interfering with us."
There was something about the manner of the boy that told them that they really had made a mistake. The revolver was held by a hand that was steady as a rock, and there was no doubt in their minds but that lead would fly from it if they disobeyed.
They let go their revolvers and scrambled to their feet.
"Ha, ha, ha!" laughed Cheyenne Charlie. "A fine lot of galoots you are! Young Wild West is only a boy, all right, but I reckon he kin lick a stagecoach load of sich fellers as you are! Make 'em do ther tenderfoot dance, Wild. Go on--jest fur fun!"
"All right, Charlie," was the reply, and the young deadshot fired a shot that hit the ground near the feet of the spokesman of the trio.
"Hold on!" the cowboy shouted. "It's all right, Young Wild West. I know who yer are now. I'll 'pologize. Don't shoot no more!"
Crack!
Again the boy fired, and then all three, knowing what was wanted of them, began to dance for all they were worth.
Crack--crack!
Cheyenne Charlie now took a hand in the game, and, while the girls and Jim Dart laughed merrily, the three cowboys did the "tenderfoot dance" in fine shape.
Both Wild and the scout fired three or four shots apiece, and some of them took chips off the high heels of the boots the cowboys wore.
"I reckon that will be about all," said our hero, as he ejected the shells from his revolver and then coolly proceeded to reload the chambers. "You galoots will know better the next time. I don't much like the looks of you, but I want to tell you that if you happen to take a notion to get square with us for what has happened you'll get the worst of it. I hope you understand what I say."
The rascals--for they were undoubtedly such--did not stop to make a reply, but darted into the saloon.
The Chinaman gave a parting laugh, and then, turning to the other Celestial, observed:
"Me havee velly nallow escapee, my blother."
"You allee samee velly muchee fool!" was the retort. "You allee timee lookee for um tanglefoot, so be."
"Me havee two velly nicee lillee dlinks, my blother; you no havee."
"Me no wantee," was the scornful rejoinder.
It was Wing, the cook, who claimed he did not want any whisky.
He was just a common, everyday Chinee, who did his work well and slept whenever he had nothing else to do, providing no one disturbed him.
Hop, on the other hand, was one of the