"And you won't send me to the pen?"
"No. I never meant to do that, of course. I was only trying to bluff you. All I ask is that you clear out, and give our people a chance to forget."
"But what's there in that for me, Cotton? If I had wanted to run away, I could have done it any time during the last eight or ten weeks."
"Yes, of course, but now it's different. Now it's a matter of my consideration."
"Cut out the consideration!" exclaimed Hal. "You want to get rid of me, and you'd like to do it without trouble. But you can't--so forget it."
The other was staring, puzzled. "You mean you expect to stay here?"
"I mean just that."
"Young man, I've had enough of this! I've got no more time to play. I don't care who you are, I don't care about your threats. I'm the marshal of this camp, and I have the job of keeping order in it. I say you're going to get out!"
"But, Cotton," said Hal, "this is an incorporated town! I have a right to walk on the streets--exactly as much right as you."
"I'm not going to waste time arguing. I'm going to put you into an automobile and take you down to Pedro!"
"And suppose I go to the District Attorney and demand that he prosecute you?"
"He'll laugh at you."
"And suppose I go to the Governor of the state?"
"He'll laugh still louder."
"All right, Cotton; maybe you know what you're doing; but I wonder--I wonder just how sure you feel. Has it never occurred to you that your superiors might not care to have you take these high-handed steps?"
"My superiors? Who do you mean?"
"There's one man in the state you must respect--even though you despise the District Attorney and the Governor. That is Peter Harrigan."
"Peter Harrigan?" echoed the other; and then he burst into a laugh.
"Well, you _are_ a merry lad!"
Hal continued to study him, unmoved. "I wonder if you're sure! He'll stand for everything you've done."
"He will!" said the other.
"For the way you treat the workers? He knows you are giving short weights."
"Oh hell!" said the other. "Where do you suppose he got the money for your college?"
There was a pause; at last the marshal asked, defiantly, "Have you got what you want?"
"Yes," replied Hal. "Of course, I thought it all along, but it's hard to convince other people. Old Peter's not like most of these Western wolves, you know; he's a pious high-church man."
The marshal smiled grimly. "So long as there are sheep," said he, "there'll be wolves in sheep's clothing."
"I see," said Hal. "And you leave them to feed on the lambs!"
"If any lamb is silly enough to be fooled by that old worn-out skin,"
remarked the marshal, "it deserves to be eaten."
Hal was studying the cynical face in front of him. "Cotton," he said, "the shepherds are asleep; but the watch-dogs are barking. Haven't you heard them?"
"I hadn't noticed."
"They are barking, barking! They are going to wake the shepherds! They are going to save the sheep!"
"Religion don't interest me," said the other, looking bored; "your kind any more than Old Peter's."
And suddenly Hal rose to his feet. "Cotton," said he, "my place is with the flock! I'm going back to my job at the tipple!" And he started towards the door.
SECTION 23.
Jeff Cotton sprang forward. "Stop!" he cried.
But Hal did not stop.
"See here, young man!" cried the marshal. "Don't carry this joke too far!" And he sprang to the door, just ahead of his prisoner. His hand moved toward his hip.
"Draw your gun, Cotton," said Hal; and, as the marshal obeyed, "Now I will stop. If I obey you in future, it will be at the point of your revolver."
The marshal's mouth was dangerous-looking. "You may find that in this country there's not so much between the drawing of a gun and the firing of it!"
"I've explained my attitude," replied Hal. "What are your orders?"
"Come back and sit in this chair."
So Hal sat, and the marshal went to his desk, and took up the telephone.
"Number seven," he said, and waited a moment. "That you, Tom? Bring the car right away."
He hung up the receiver, and there followed a silence; finally Hal inquired, "I'm going to Pedro?"
There was no reply.
"I see I've got on your nerves," said Hal. "But I don't suppose it's occurred to you that you deprived me of my money last night. Also, I've an account with the company, some money coming to me for my work? What about that?"
The marshal took up the receiver and gave another number. "Hello, Simpson. This is Cotton. Will you figure out the time of Joe Smith, buddy in Number Two, and send over the cash. Get his account at the store; and be quick, we're waiting for it. He's going out in a hurry."
Again he hung up the receiver.
"Tell me," said Hal, "did you take that trouble for Mike Sikoria?"
There was silence.