His appearance caused a ripple of
excitement to run around the room. After what had taken place, a
visit from him could mean only one thing--trouble. And it was entirely
possible that he had others within call to help him out if necessary.
Harlan knew that he would be the one held responsible and he ceased
wiping a glass and held the cloth suspended in one hand and the glass in
the other. "Well?" he snapped, angrily, his eyes smouldering with fixed
hatred.
"Mebby you think it's well, but it's going to be a blamed sight better
before sundown to-morrow night," evenly replied the marshal. "I just
dropped in sort of free-like to tell you to pack up an' get out of town
before dark--load yore wagon an' vamoose; an' take yore friends with
you, too. If you don't--" he did not finish in words, for his tightening
lips made them unnecessary.
"_What!_" yelled Harlan, red with anger. He placed his hands on the bar
and leaned over it as if to give emphasis to his words. "_Me_ pack up
an' git! _Me_ leave this shack! Who's going to pay me for it, hey? _Me_
leave town! You drop out again an' go back to Kansas where you come
from--they're easier back there!"
"Well, so far I ain't found nothing very craggy 'round here," retorted
Edwards, closely watching the muttering crowd by the bar. "Takes more
than a loud voice an' a pack of sneaking coyotes to send me looking
for something easier.
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