"I don't know anything of th' kind, but I do know—" began Youbet; but Schultz interrupted him with a remark intended to contain humor.
"Ven you say you doand know anyt'ing, you know somedings; ven you know dot you doand know noddings, den you know somedings. Und das iss so—yah."
"Who th' devil told you to stick yore Dutch mouth—" retorted Youbet; but Clayton cut him short.
"So yo 're a old-timer, hey?" cried the sheepman. "Well, by God, yore old-time friend Waffles is a coward, a murderer, an'—"
"Yo 're a liar!" rang out the vibrant voice of the cowman, his gun out and leveled in a flash. The seven had moved forward as one man, actuated by the same impulse; and their hands were moving toward their guns when the crashes of Youbet's weapon reverberated in the small room, the acrid smoke swirling around him as though to shield him from the result of his folly—a result which he had weighed and then ignored.
Clayton dropped, with his mouth still open.
