Terry saw the others looking straight at Pollard; the leader was thoughtful for a moment.
"Is he coming with a gang, Sandy?"
"Nope—alone."
"He was always a nervy cuss. Someday—"
He left the sentence unfinished. Denver had risen noiselessly.
"I'm going to beat it for my bunk," he announced. "Let me know when the sheriff is gone."
"Sit where you are, Denver. McGuire ain't going to lay hands on you."
"Sure he ain't," agreed Denver. "But I ain't partial to having guys lay eyes on me, neither. Some of you can go out and beat up trouble. I like to stay put."
And he glided out of the room with no more noise than a sliding shadow.
He had hardly disappeared when a heavy hand beat at the door.
"That's McGuire," announced Pollard. "Let him in, Phil." So saying, he twitched his gun out of the holster, spun the cylinder, and dropped it back.