That was what took the blood
from his face and made him a white mask of tragedy when he stepped into the
door of the saloon. It was quiet, but half a dozen men sat at the tables in
the corner, and among them were Ronicky and the other two. Sliver Waldron
was in the very act of pulling back his chair, and perhaps all three had
just come in. Perhaps Barry had come here to look for his quarry and found
them not yet arrived; perhaps he was now hunting in other places through
the town; perhaps he was even now crouched in the shadow near at hand and
ready to attack.
It made the hand of Vic Gregg contract with a cruel pressure when it fell
on the shoulder of Sliver Waldron.
"Now, what in hell!" grunted that hardened warrior.
He had no love for Vic Gregg since that day when the posse rode through the
hills after him; neither had Ronicky or Gus Reeve, who rose from their
chairs as if at a signal. "Come with me, gents," said Vic. "An' come
quick!"
They asked no questions and did not stay to argue the point for he had that
in his face which meant action.
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