merely looked
first at one and then the other and did not answer, which silence
infuriated Sonora.

"Why, you tol' me . . .?" he said with an angry look in his eye.

"Tol' you, Sonora? Why he tol' me the same thing," protested Trinidad
with an earnestness that, at any other time, would have sent his
listeners into fits of laughter.

This was too much for Sonora; he flew into a paroxysm of rage.

"Well, for a first-class liar . . .!"

"You bet!" corroborated Trinidad, relapsing, despite his anger, into his
pet phrase.

For some minutes the dejected suitors continued in this strain, now
arguing and then condoling with one another, the boys, meanwhile,
proceeding to clear the school-room of the benches, casks and planks,
lifting or rolling them back into place as if they were made of paper.

All of a sudden Sonora's face cleared perceptibly. Turning swiftly to
the sheriff, who sat tilted back in a chair before the fire, he said
with unexpected cheerfulness of voice:

"Why, Johnson's dead. He got away, an'--"

"Yes, he got away," remarked Rance, dully, shaking the ashes from his
cigar, which answer, together with the peculiar look which Sonora saw on
the other's face, made him at once suspicious that something was being
held back from them which they had a right to know. It came about,
therefore, that, with a hasty movement towards the Sheriff, his eyes
glaring, his voice husky, Sonora demanded:

"Jack Rance, I call on you as Sheriff for Johnson! He was in your
county."

Instantly the cry was taken up by the others, but it was Trinidad who,
shaking his fist in Rance's face, supplemented:

"You hustle up an' run a bridle through your p'int o' teeth or your boom
for re-election 's over, you lily-fingered gambler!"

But the Sheriff did not move a muscle, though after a moment he answered
coolly:

"Oh, I don't know as I give a damn . . .!" Which reply, to say the
least, was somewhat disconcerting to the men who had surrounded him and
were eyeing him threateningly.

"No talk--we want Johnson," insisted Trinidad, hotly.

"We want Johnson," echoed the crowd in low, tense voices, their fists
clenched.

And still Rance did not waver, but calmly puffing sway at his long,
black cigar he looked blankly into space. Presently a voice outside
calling, "Boys!" sounded throughout the room and brought him back to
actuality. He sat straight up in his chair while Nick, shifting uneasily
about on his feet, muttered:

"W