The sheriff, however, only sighed, and as the
moonlight increased Vic could see that he was deeply, childishly contented,
for in the heart of the little dusty man there was that inextinguishable
spark, the love of battle. Chance had thrown him on the side of the law,
but sooner or later dull times were sure to come and then Pete Glass would
cut out work of his own making go bad. The love of the man-trail is a
passion that works in two ways, and they who begin by hunting will in the
end be the hunted; the mountain-desert is filled with such histories.
"Three to five," said the sheriff, "sounds more interestin', Vic."
A sudden passion to destroy that assured calm rose in Gregg.
"Three common men might make you a game," he said, glowering, "but them
ain't common ones. One of 'em I don't know, but he has a damned nervous
hand. Another is Lee Haines!"
He had succeeded in part, at least. The sheriff sat bolt erect; he seemed
to be hearing distant music.
"Lee Haines!" he murmured. "That was Jim Silent's man. They say he was as
fast with a gun as Jim himself.
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