“You got quite a reputation for workin’ that play,” said Robinson, backing away toward the swinging doors. “You’re lucky I didn’t make it worse, Brady, but bein’s I’m a stranger here I ain’t taking chances on local prejudices——”
The swinging doors were burst inward as a group of men rushed into the place, holding the doors open. Robinson calmly stood behind the inner door, which had opened against him and held him concealed from sight.
“Who’s shootin’ here?” demanded the foremost man.
“I am,” said Robinson, stepping out. “Got any objections?”
They faced around to meet his weapon. Over it his eyes held them; no longer smiling, those eyes were keen and bitter blue.
“Objections overruled,” he went on coolly. “You gents oughtn’t come busting into a place o’ business like this. It ain’t proper. Here I was just showin’ Mike how the draw was done where I come from, and I get interrupted——”
“We ain’t strong on learning things, stranger,” said the foremost man. “I’m sheriff of Pahrump County— Tracy. These deputies of mine were in next door with me——”
“Right convenient, weren’t you?” asked Robinson coolly. “Keep ’em up—up! That’s right. Right convenient, as I said. And you come in a-runnin’, gents. Lookin’ for something special, were you?”
The sheriff changed countenance.
“Why,” he stammered, “I understood a greaser was makin’ trouble here——”