Under Arrest

When Brown emerged from behind the protection of the cabin, his
freckled face yet burning red in memory of his strenuous love-making,
he discovered both Hicks and Winston standing upon the rock which
shortly before had formed their breakfast table, gazing watchfully off
into the purple depths of the canyon, occasionally lifting their eyes
to search carefully the nearer surroundings about the hostile
"Independence." Something serious was in the air, and all three men
felt its mysterious presence. Hicks held the field-glasses in his
hands, outwardly calm, yet his old face already beginning to exhibit
the excitement of rapidly culminating events. That they were not to be
long left undisturbed was promised by an increasing number of figures
distinctly visible around the distant shaft-house and dump, as well as
the continuous shouting, indistinguishable as to words but pronounced
in volume, borne through the clear air to their ears.

"I 'm a liar if ther was n't twenty in that last bunch," Hicks
muttered, just a trifle uneasily. "Good Lord boys! it 's an army they
're organizin' over yonder. Blame me if I onderstan' that sorter
scheme at all. It don't look nat'ral. I never thought Farnham was no
coward when ther time come fer fightin', but this kind o' fixin' shore
looks as if we had him skeered stiff. Wal, it 'll take more 'n a bunch
o' San Juan toughs to skeer me. I reckon ther present plan must be ter
try rushin' ther 'Little Yankee.'"

He wheeled about, driving the extended tubes of his glass together, his
gray beard forking out in front of his lean, brown face like so many
bristles.