WE MEET DOUBTFUL CHARACTERS 



to his belt. The most drunken one was a large, 

 swearing, swaggering ruffian who was addressed 

 by the other as "Cap." The one named "Joe" 

 was smaller and apparently more sober and wore 

 an old cavalry jacket. 



As they walked around the team we heard an 

 ominous growl from our dog, Found. The big 

 fellow stepped back and laid a hand on the butt 

 of one of his pistols, and Jack quickly grasped the 

 handle of his own weapon and took a step or 

 two in the direction of the drunken ruffian, keeping 

 his eyes on the fellow's pistol hand. "Cap" saw 

 the movement and turned toward Jack, still with 

 his hand on his pistol, and remarked with an oath : 



"Mister, ef that dog tries to bite me he dies." 



"Then there'll be twJ dogs die," returned Jack 

 quietly, looking the fellow in the eye. 



I kept a close watch of the motions of Joe, but 

 he made no threatening gestures and seemed 

 waiting to see what his leader would do. 



"What do you mean, sir?" demanded the 

 drunken blusterer of Jack. 



"I mean," replied the Irishman quietly, "that 

 if you keep away from that team and attend to 

 your own business the dog'll not hurt you; but you 

 draw a gun to shoot him, an' well, you heard my 

 remark." 



Instead of resenting Jack's ultimatum, the big 

 fellow turned to his henchman and said: 



"Joe, these men don't appear to have heard of 



43 



