By this time the
crowd in the saloon was standing near the two gunmen, commenting
gravely or humorously, according to its whim.
"Surprise party for him," suggested one, pointing to Denver.
"Didn't tickle him a heap, though," said another. "Seemed plumb
shocked an' disappointed, if you noticed his face."
"Slick," said another, pointing to Calumet, who had turned his back and
was walking toward the door; "cool as ice water."
Sudden death had no terrors for these men; there was no inclination in
their minds to blame Calumet, and so they watched with admiration for
his poise as he stepped out through the door.
"Taggart'll be gettin' his," said a man.
"Not tonight," laughed another. "I seen him hittin' the breeze out.
An' sundown's quite a considerable distance away yet, too."
CHAPTER XVI
THE AMBUSH
If Calumet had any regret over the outcome of his adventure in the Red
Dog, it was that Neal Taggart had given him no opportunity to square
the account between them. Calumet had lingered in town until dusk, for
he had given his word and would not break it, and then, it being
certain that his enemy had decided not to accept the challenge, he
hitched his horses and just after dusk pulled out for the Lazy Y.
Something had been added to the debt of hatred which he owed the
Taggarts.
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