"Excuse me," he said mildly, "but the gentleman's horse is fed."
It was his way of letting Jane Hunter—and Dick Hilton—know that she was not alone; but if the Reverend had intended to stop the tirade which he had heard from outside he did not succeed for the Easterner was further enraged at sight of him.
"I suppose this is part of your plan!" he snapped. "You found out that it's no use to wheedle me, so you've had your gun-man come to drive me off as he brought me!"
"Dick, don't be silly! You're absurd. A gun. The idea!"
Hilton laughed tauntingly and said:
"He's standing there now, covering me with a gun! Look at him." He pointed to the Reverend's pocket. A hand was in it and the garment bulged sharply as though a revolver, concealed there, was ready for instant use. "That's how you treat me; that's how you got me here. God knows I wouldn't have come otherwise if your existence depended on it.
"This man met me on the trail. He said you wanted to see me. I consigned him to the Hell from which he tries to have sinners and he covered me from his pocket just as he has me covered now and said it would be wise for me to answer your summons.
"How else do you think he brought me?" he demanded, wheeling to face Jane again.
The girl looked quickly to Beal, lips parted in surprise.
"I sent Mr. Beal for you, yes, but I said nothing about using force to bring you. I wouldn't do that. I'm sure there is some mistake."