"Put up your gun, Clarke."
Kid had reached there just at the end of the struggle, and had started to pull his revolver to assist Bud.
Holding the captured revolver in his hand, Bill said: "Why, what's the matter, boys? I don't allow no gun-play on this ranch—not while I'm foreman of it."
In the first faint light of the rising sun the three figures were like ghostly silhouettes against the gray background.
"I want that gun," Bud replied.
"How did you come by it?" Bill demanded.
Before Bud Hardy could speak, Tabywana grasped Bill by the arm and by pantomime indicated that Bud had crept into the house and stolen it.
Bill turned sternly to Bud. "What do you mean by sneakin' into other peoples' houses at night an' takin' their property? Why"—as he examined the revolver—-"this gun belongs to Nat-u-ritch."
Almost savagely Bud interposed: "Oh, it does, does it? You heard that, Clarke? Well, that's all I want to know."
Bill saw that Bud had gained evidence against the little woman. "Well, it ain't all I want to know. You'll have to show me, Bud—you'll have to show me why you're combinin' the trades of burglar an' sheriff." Then, with a change in his voice, he said, "Better sit down and we'll discuss this amicable."