Part 38 (1/2)

The sheriff flashed a knowing glance up at his tall prisoner's face.

”I dunno, Sinclair. Kind of looks that way.”

Although Cartwright had been persuaded to restore his gun to its cover, he pa.s.sed through the crowd until he confronted Sinclair.

”Now, the tables is turned, eh? I'll take the high hand from now on, Sinclair!”

”It's no good,” said Sinclair dryly. ”The gent that shot out the light had a chance to see something before he done the shooting. And what he seen must have showed that you're yaller, Cartwright--yaller as a yaller dog!”

Cartwright flung his fist with a curse into the face of the cowpuncher.

The weight of the blow jarred him back against the wall, but he met the glare of Cartwright with a steady eye, a thin trickle of crimson running down his cut lips. The sheriff rushed in between and mastered Cartwright's arms.

”One more little trick like that, stranger, and I'll turn you over to the boys. They got ways of teaching gents manners. How was you raised, anyway?”

Suddenly sobered, Cartwright drew back from dark glances on every side.

”Fellows,” he said, in a shaken voice, ”I forgot his hands was tied.

But I'm kind of wrought up. He tried to murder me!”

”It's all right, partner,” drawled Red Chalmers, and he laid a strong hand on the shoulder of Cartwright. ”It's all right. We all allow for one break. But don't do something like that twice--not in these parts!”

Sinclair walked beside the sheriff, while the crowd poured past him and down the hall. When they reached the head of the stairs they found the lighted room below filled with excited, upturned faces; at the sight of the sheriff and his prisoner they roared their applause. The faces were blotted and blurred by a veil of rapidly, widely waving sombreros.

The sheriff paused halfway down the stairs and held up his hand.

Sinclair halted beside him looking disdainfully over the crowd.

Instantly noise and movement ceased. It was a spectacular picture, the stubby little sheriff and the tall, lean, wolflike man he had captured.

It seemed a vivid ill.u.s.tration of the power of the law over the lawbreaker. Sinclair glanced down in wonder at Kern. It was in character for the sheriff to make a speech. A moment later the sheriff's own words had explained his reason for the impromptu address.

”Boys,” he said, ”I figure some of you has got an almighty big wish to see Sinclair on the end of a rope, eh?”

A deep growl answered him.

”Speaking personal,” went on the sheriff smoothly, ”I don't see how he's done a thing worth hanging. He took a prisoner away from me, and he's resisted arrest. That's all. Sinclair has got a name as a killer.

Maybe he is. But I know he ain't done no killing around these parts that's come to light yet. I'll tell you another thing. A minute ago he could have sent three men to death and maybe come off with a free skin.

But he chose to take his chance without shooting to kill. He tried to fight his way out with his hands sooner'n blow the heads off of gents that never done him no harm except to get in his way. Well, boys, that's something you don't often see. And I tell you this right now: If they's any lynch talk around this here town, you can lay to it that you'll have to shoot your way to Sinclair through me. And I'll be a dead one before you reach to him.”

He paused. Someone hissed from the back of the crowd, but the majority murmured in appreciation.

”One more thing,” went on the sheriff. ”Some of you may think it was great guns to take Sinclair. It _was_ a pretty good job, but they ain't no credit coming to me. I'm up here saying that all the praise goes to a fat friend of mine by name Arizona. If you got any free drinks, let 'em drift the way of Arizona. Hey, Arizona, step out and make a bow, will you?”

But no Arizona appeared. The crowd cheered him, and then cheered the generous sheriff. Kern had won more by his frankness than he could possibly have won in half a dozen spectacular exploits with a gun.

25

The crowd swirled out of the hotel before the sheriff and his prisoner, and then swirled back again. No use following the sheriff if they hoped for details. They knew his silence of old. Instead they picked off the members who had taken part in some phase of the fight, and drew them aside. As Sinclair went on down the street, the populace of Sour Creek was left pooled behind him. Various orators were giving accounts of how the whole thing had happened.