“What do you want, Pardaloe?” snapped Duke.
Pardaloe shook his hat once more and turned a few steps so that he stood between the uncurtained window and the light. “The creek’s up,” he said to Duke in his peculiarly slow, steady tone. “Some of Satt’s boys are trying to get the cattle out of the lower corral.” He fingered his hat, looked first at Duke, then at Gale, then at de Spain. “Guess they’ll need a little help, so I asked Sassoon to come over––” Pardaloe jerked his head indicatively toward the front. “He’s outside with some of the boys now.”
“Tell Sassoon to come in here!” thundered Gale.
De Spain’s left arm shot out. “Hold on, Pardaloe; pull down that curtain behind you!”
“Don’t touch that curtain, Pardaloe!” shouted Gale Morgan.
“Pardaloe,” said de Spain, his left arm pointing menacingly and walking instantly toward him, “pull that curtain or pull your gun, quick.” At that moment Nan, in hat and coat, reappeared in the archway behind de Spain. Pardaloe jerked down the curtain and started for the door. De Spain had backed up again. “Stop, Pardaloe,” he called. “My men are outside that door. Stand where you are,” he ordered, still enforcing his commands with his right hand covering the holster at his hip. “I leave this room first. Nan, are you ready?” he asked, without looking at her.
“Yes.”
Her uncle’s face whitened. “Don’t leave this house to-night, Nan,” he said menacingly.
“You’ve forced me to, Uncle Duke.”