McGuire had, as a
matter of fact, made his territory practically crime-proof for so long
that men had lost interest in planning adventures within the sphere of
his authority. It seemed to the four men of Pollard's gang a peculiar
folly to cast a challenge in the teeth of the formidable sheriff himself.
Even Pollard was shaken and looked to Denver. But that worthy, who had
returned from the door where he was stationed during the presence of the
sheriff, remained in his place smiling down at his hands. He, for one,
seemed oddly pleased.
In the meantime Sandy was setting forth his second and particularly
interesting news item.
"You-all know Lewison?" he asked.
"The sour old grouch," affirmed Phil Marvin. "Sure, we know him."
"I know him, too," said Sandy. "I worked for the tenderfoot that he
skinned out of the ranch. And then I worked for Lewison. If they's
anything good about Lewison, you'd need a spyglass to find it, and then
it wouldn't be fit to see. His wife couldn't live with him; he drove his
son off and turned him into a drunk; and he's lived his life for his
coin."
"Which he ain't got much to show for it," remarked Marvin.
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