"Because I've got a bigger aim then sneakin' murders an' I aims ter hev men like you holp me. Because when we finishes our job yore children air goin' ter dwell in safety." He talked on fervently and despite himself the man with his finger on the trigger listened.
It all seemed very fantastic and radical to Dog Tate, yet there was such a hypnotic power in the voice and manner that he lowered his cocked rifle.
"Bear Cat," he said with a sort of bewilderment, "thet talk sounds powerful flighty ter me, but if ye air outen yer right mind I reckon I kain't kill ye—an' ef thar's a solitary grain of sense in what ye says God knows I'd like ter hev ye show hit ter me."
The shadows lengthened across the valleys and the peaks grew cloudily somber as Bear Cat Stacy talked. He was trying for his first convert and his soul went into his persuasiveness. He had himself done first what he asked of others. His still was destroyed for a bigger aim. It was a new and more effective warfare which required certain sacrifices.
A slow grin of sardonic amusement spread eventually over the face of Dog Tate. He put down his rifle.
"Then ye means thet hit hain't a-goin' ter be jest preachin'? Kinnard hain't goin' ter escape scot-free? Because I've always figgered he belonged ter me."
"So many men figgers thet," retorted Stacy dryly, "thet in ther time of final reckonin' thar won't be enough of him ter go round. I aims ter hang him in Marlin Town, with his own jedge passin' sentence on him."
Dog Tate drew a clay pipe from his pocket and kindled it. His eyes glowed with a pleasurable anticipation.
"Wa'al, now, es ter thet blockade still of mine," he drawled reflectively. "My old woman's been faultin' me erbout hit fer a long spell, an' seekin' ter prevail on me ter quit. She 'lows hit'll cost more'n hit comes ter afore we gits through an' I misdoubts she hain't fur wrong." He chewed on the pipe-stem yet a while longer, then suddenly he announced: "I reckon thet still don't owe me nothin' much. Hit's about wore out anyhow. Let's go over thar an' bust her up—an' straightway start hell a-poppin'."
Bear Cat Stacy glanced keenly at Joe Sanders who had remained a pace or two apart, holding his counsel with a face that bore no index to his sentiments. "Air you with us, too, Joe?" he demanded. "This-hyar business hain't a-goin' ter be no frolic. We don't want no men thet don't aim ter go through with hit."