It made
him stand stiffer. His chin went up. He grew literally taller before
their eyes, and such a look came on his face that the sheriff
instinctively fell back a pace.
"Mr. Gainor," said Terry, as though his contempt for the sheriff was too
great to permit his speaking directly to Minter, "will you explain to the
sheriff that my determination to have satisfaction does not come from the
fact that he killed my father, but because of the manner of the killing?
To the sheriff it seems justifiable. To me it seems a murder. Having that
thought, there is only one thing to do. One of us must not leave this
place!" Gainor bowed, but the sheriff gaped.
"By the eternal!" he scoffed. "This sounds like one of them duels of the
old days. This was the way they used to talk!"
"Gentlemen," said Gainor, raising his long-fingered hand, "it is my
solemn duty to admonish you to make up your differences amicably."
"Whatever that means," sneered the sheriff. "But tell this young fool
that's trying to act like he couldn't see me or hear me--tell him that I
don't carry no grudge ag'in' him, that I'm sorry he's Black Jack's son,
but that it's something he can live down, maybe.
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