"Mr. Burford," said McDonald, "which are your regular deputies here?"
The sheriff indicated his three deputy officers. Captain Bill motioned them to stand apart from the others.
"Now, Sheriff," he said, "disarm the rest of these men."
The officer looked a little bewildered.
"I don't know about that," he began.
"Didn't you agree to do what I ordered?" Then, to Kennon—"Didn't he, Judge?"
The judge nodded. The sheriff still hesitated.
"Never mind," said McDonald, "I'll do it myself. Here, boys," he went on in his mild friendly drawl, "come in here and stack your guns in this wardrobe. It's a good safe place for them. They won't be likely to go off and hurt anybody, in there."
What was it about the manner of the man that made men obey? Those aroused, bloodthirsty Texans, full of an old deep hatred and the spirit of revenge, marched in and put away their guns at his direction, with scarcely a word of dissent.
"I don't blame you-all for having your guns until now," Captain Bill went on, as he locked the wardrobe and took the key. "But we want to stop this war if we can. It ain't good for the population. Now, I'll just go over and look after the other crowd."