"Where's the chief ?" "Fired!" bellowed Lawlor without a moment of hesitation.
"Who fired him ?" asked the new man, with an expectant smile, like one who waits for the point of a joke, but he caught a series of strange signals from men at the table and many a broad wink.
"I fired him, Gregory," answered Lawlor.

"I fired Nash!" He turned to Bard.
"You see," he said rather weakly, "the boys is used to callin' Nash 'the chief.'" "Ah, yes," said Bard, "I understand." And Lawlor felt that he did understand, and too well.
Gregory, in the meantime, silenced by the mysterious signs from his fellow cowpunchers, took his place and began eating without another word.

No one spoke to him, but as if he caught the tenseness of the situation, his eyes finally turned and glanced up the table to Bard.
It was easy for Anthony to understand that glance.

It is the sort of look which the curious turn on the man accused of a great crime and sitting in the court room guilty.

His trial in silence had continued until he was found guilty.