“I suppose you’re a newcomer then,” the curly-haired man remarked evenly. Then, seeing the other’s scowl darken, he added quietly: “Perhaps you can direct me to Major Dudley’s house.”
The other’s face instantly became suspicious. “What do you want there?” he asked.
“I reckon you needn’t worry about that, friend,” the stranger answered pleasantly. “Now, if you will kindly point out the major’s house to me, I won’t take up any more of your undoubtedly valuable time.”
For a moment the other eyed him angrily. Then he smiled. “Why, yes. I’ll do that, Curly,” he said slowly. “I al’ys endeavors to prevent the wayfarer gittin’ lost in the mazes o’ this here metropolis. It’s that one yonder that you see stickin’ above the trees at the bend in the road.”
The stranger looked up the road in the direction indicated.
“There are three white ones there,” he said. “From your vivid description, it might be either.”
The ugly grin deepened on the miner’s face. “I never was no hand at disseminatin’ description,” he drawled. “The domicile to which I refers, Curly, is the one with the broken winder in front.”
With careless unconcern yet astonishing speed he drew his revolver and fired. From where they stood they could all see a pane in a front window of the farthest house collapse. The tinkle of breaking glass came to their ears.
A loud guffaw broke from the group. Passers-by stopped for an instant, saw what had happened, shrugged their shoulders and went on about their business. The miner with a mock bow thrust his revolver back into its holster.
“That ought to help you locate it, Curly. Think you’ll be able to find your way there now, or do I gotta send a guide along with you so’s you won’t git lost?”