“And I’m not to blame?”
“No.”
Taylor grinned and released the judge’s ear. “That’s all, gentlemen,” he said; “court is dismissed!”
The judge said nothing as he walked toward the door of the courthouse. Nor did Carrington and Danforth speak as they followed the judge. Both Carrington and Danforth seemed to have had enough fighting for one day.
The victor looked around at the faces in the crowd that were turned to his, and his grin grew eloquent.
“Looks like we’re going to have a mighty peaceable administration, boys!” he said. His grin included Norton, at whom he deliberately winked. Then he turned, mounted his horse—which had stood docilely near by during the excitement, and which whinnied as he approached it—and rode down the street to the Dawes bank, before which he dismounted. Then he went to his rooms on the floor above, washed and changed his clothes, and attended to the bruises on his face. Later, looking out of the window, he saw the crowd slowly dispersing; and still later he opened the door on Neil Norton, who came in, deep concern on his face.
“You’ve started something, Squint. After you left I went into the Eagle office. The partition is thin, and I could hear Carrington raising hell in there. You look out; he’ll try to play some dog’s trick on you now! There’s going to be the devil to pay in this man’s town!”
Taylor laughed. “How long does it take for a sprained ankle to mend, Norton?”
Norton looked sharply at Taylor’s feet.
“You sprain one of yours?” he asked.