Shall we freesk him?"
As he flung the query over his shoulder his beady little eyes did not
leave Pringle's.
Bell Applegate got leisurely to his feet--a tall man, well set up,
with a smooth-shaved, florid face and red hair.
"If he has we'll jack him in the jug." He threw back the lapel of his
coat, displaying a silver star.
"But I ain't got no gun," protested John Wesley meekly. "You-all can
see for yourself."
"We will--don't worry! Don't you make one wrong move or I'll put out
your light!"
"Be you the sheriff?"
"Police. Go to him, Ben!"
"No gun," reported Ben after a swift search of the shrinking captive.
"I done told you so, didn't I?"
"Mighty good thing for you, old rooster. Gun-toting is strictly barred
in Las Uvas. You got to take your gun off fifteen minutes after you
get in from the road and you can't put it on till fifteen minutes
before you take the road again."
"Is that--er--police regulations or state law?"
"State law--and has been any time these twenty-five years. Say, you
doddering old fool, what do you think this is--a night school?"
"I--I guess I'll go to bed," said Pringle miserably.
"I--I guess if you come back I'll throw you out," mimicked Ben with a
guffaw.
Pringle made no answer. He shuffled into the hall and up the stairway
to his bedroom.
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