“Better keep out of it,” the marshal advised. “Let the sheriff take care of it. The peacemaker always gets the worst of it.”
But Scott shook his head and started toward his crew. Mac had seen him coming and met him halfway.
“Some show,” Mac exclaimed cheerfully. “They have not bothered us yet and I reckon maybe they know enough to let us alone.”
“I am going down there to try to stop it, Mac. If anything interferes with me it will be these fellows on this side. If they do, clean them up.”
“We’ll do that,” Mac exclaimed enthusiastically. “But why not let us clean them up first? It would be safer?”
“No,” Scott replied firmly, “that would not do. I don’t think they will bother me and I don’t want you to mix in the thing at all unless they do.”
A fresh burst of shots rattled around the buildings on both sides of the street. “They haven’t hit anybody yet,” Mac growled sarcastically, “but they may hurt somebody if they keep on.”
When Scott got back to the knoll, the marshal was nowhere in sight. He did not stop to look for him. He had made up his mind what he was going to do and he was anxious to be about it. He picked his way diagonally across the slope, back of the Waits’ position to where the station agent was sitting on the platform.
He talked earnestly to Mr. Roberts for a moment and started up the road toward the village.
“Better keep out of it,” Mr. Roberts called after him pleadingly.