"You bone-spavined,
pink-eyed rat-catcher," continued this very particular describer, "what
have you got on us? Come out and dicker and we'll do the same!"
The sheriff sighed, softly, deeply.
"I thought maybe they wouldn't get down to talk," he murmured. But since
the last chance for a battle was gone, he stepped fearlessly from behind
his rock and advanced into the open. Two tall figures came to meet him.
"Now," said Lee Haines, stalking forward. "One bad move, just the glint of
a single gun from the rest of you sheep thieves, and I'll tame your pet
sheriff and send him to hell for a model."
They halted, close to each other, the two big men, Haines in the front, and
the sheriff.
"You're Lee Haines?"
"You've named me."
"And you're Buck Daniels?"
"That's me."
"Gents, you've resisted an officer of the law in the act of makin' an
arrest. I s'pose you know what that means?"
Big Lee Haines laughed.
"Don't start a bluff, sheriff. I know a bit about the law."
"Maybe by experience?"
It was an odd thing to watch the three, every one of them a practiced
fighter, every one of them primed for trouble, but each ostentatiously
keeping his hands away from the holsters.
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