He pushed open the swinging doors of Mike’s Place.
CHAPTER VIII
EXIT MR. P. BRADY
The saloon was deserted, except for Galway Mike and Mr. Murphy, who were closely engaged in conversation across the bar. In another half hour the place would be rushed; the stage would be in, and the usual evening’s business would be opened up.
Sam Fisher wasted no time on preliminaries. When he stepped inside the place it was with a drawn gun.
“Hands up, gents!” he said quietly. “Move quick, Mike!”
Two pairs of hands were swiftly elevated. Murphy saw in the bar mirror who had come in, and he stood petrified. Mike grimaced angrily.
“This ain’t a holdup, is it?” he uttered. “Sure an all——”
“Nope, and you aren’t in it, Mike,” responded Fisher. “So long as you keep out of it, you’re not in it; get the idea? All right. Better iron this gent, sheriff.”
Tracy appeared, to the amazement of Mike. He produced handcuffs and stepped forward. From Murphy broke a string of oaths.