" Behind him swirled the curious crowd and for
their benefit he asked his questions loudly.
"Partner, that was sure a pretty play you made. I've seen 'em all try out
to crack them balls, but I never seen none do it the way you did--with your
gun in the leather at the start. What part of the country might you be
from?"
The other answered gently: "Why, from over yonder."
"The T O outfit, eh?"
"Beyond that."
"Up in the Gray Mountains? That so! I s'pose you been on trails like this
before?"
"Nothin' to talk about."
There might have been a double meaning in this remark, and Harry looked
twice to make sure that there was no guile.
"Well, here we are." He threw open a door which revealed a bald-headed
clerk seated at a desk in a little bare room. "Billy, here's a gent that
cracked it the first whack and started his gun from the leather, by God.
He--"
"Jest kindly close the door, Harry," said Billy. "Step in, partner. Gimme
your name?"
The door closed on the discomfited Harry, and "Joe Cumber" stood close to
it, apparently driven to shrinking into the wall in his embarrassment, but
while he stood there his hand fumbled behind him and turned the key in the
lock, and then extracted it.
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