"Take it away, if it's a revolver," pleaded Anderson. "I withdraw from the case. You c'n go as fer as you like. Eliphalet—"
"Stand still. I can't take a chance with you. You may be trying to fool me with this rube talk. Keep 'em up!"
Swiftly the stranger ran a hand over Mr. Crow's person.
"You ought to have a gun," he said in a puzzled voice.
"I loaned it last winter to Milt Cupples, an' he—"
"Who the devil are you?"
"I'm the marshal of Tinkletown, an' my name is Crow—A. Crow. I made a mistake, takin' up this case. Go on in and see Mrs. Loop if you feel like it. I won't say a word to anybody—"
"Get down on your knees, Mr. Crow, here beside me, an'—"
"Oh, Lordy, Lordy! You shorely ain't going to shoot, Mister!"
"I don't want you to pray. I want you to keep still. Don't make a sound—do you hear?"