Sam Hogg tossed down a drink, then leaning forward, whispered: “Tim, I can’t tell yuh how I know, but yuh been talkin’ loud agin’ a certain gent, and he’s out for your blood.”
Tim grinned and, reaching beneath the bar, brought up a sawed-off shotgun.
“Reckon I know who you mean, and the Toad don’t work in the open, but this scatters some, an’ I’m keepin’ it darned close to me.”
Before either could say more the screen doors swung open and two men entered. Both were strangers. One was drunk and the other was attempting to pacify him.
“If I lets yuh have one more drink, will yuh promise to go to bed?” the sober one demanded.
“Positively,” the other replied.
From somewhere outside there came a shot, followed by a shrill scream, then another shot. Sam Hogg ran to the door. As he emerged on the street it struck him as queer that the strangers’ curiosity was not strong enough to make them follow him.
Several men were running and pointing up Main Street beyond the judge’s house. The ex-Ranger saw the Yuma Kid and Baldy a block away. The running men also noticed the two killers and instantly dropped to a walk. It wasn’t safe to approach them at a run. The men halted for a moment, then edged across the road to circle them.
“That’s what they was waitin’ for, tryin’ to delay pursuit!” Sam Hogg growled.
Rage overcame him and he yanked out his gun, leaped off the board walk and charged down the road. For a moment he thought Baldy was going to intercept him, but the Yuma Kid spat out a sentence in Spanish and Baldy stepped aside.