“But you didn’t, and you did,” returned Fisher cheerfully. “And now you’re in the soup, Pincher. But cheer up; you’ll meet some friends of yours before long, as soon as I get time to round ’em up and send ’em along. Where are your hosses, Tracy?”
“I got a couple in the hotel corral.”
Sight of the two men with their obvious prisoner quickly assembled a small crowd, which drifted along to the hotel. On the porch Sam Fisher seated Mr. Murphy in a chair and stood guard over him while Tracy went for the horses. The crowd eyed the two men and offered many comments and questions, to which Sam Fisher only replied with a smile. News of his identity having been spread by the ex-deputies of the posse, he was at length confronted by a direct question.
“Are you Fisher o’ Pecos County?” demanded one of the crowd about the porch.
“C’rect the first shot, pardner,” responded Sam Fisher.
“What ye doin’ here?”
“Workin’,” was the laconic retort. “Any objections?”
“You wait till Buck hears about this!” came in quick response. “Him and the Runnin’ Dawg will certainly take down your hide. Hey, fellers! Let’s run this Pecos sheriff out o’ town! We don’t want him here!”
There was a general, although by no means hearty, assent to the proposal. At this moment Tracy rode up with a spare horse. He grinned at Fisher and addressed the crowd.
“Gents, I’ve swore in Sheriff Fisher as special deputy and am leavin’ him in charge of things here. Adios! Gimme the prisoner, Sam.”