"And yet," pursued the storekeeper, "think of a full-grown man breaking the law to save such a skinny little shrimp of a gent as Jig? Eh? More like a pretty girl than a boy, Jig is."
Cartwright exclaimed, and both of the others turned toward him.
"Here's the gun for me," he said huskily, "and that gun belt—filled—and this holster. They'll all do."
"And a handy outfit," said Whitey. "That gun'll be a friend in need!"
"What makes you think they'll be a need?" asked Cartwright, with such unnecessary violence that the others both stared. He went on more smoothly: "What was you saying about a girl-faced gent?"
"The schoolteacher—he plugged a feller named Quade. Sinclair got him clean away from Sheriff Kern."
"And what sort of a looking gent is Sinclair? Long, brown, and pretty husky-looking, with a mean eye?"
"You've named him! Where'd you meet up with him?"
"Over in the hills yonder, just where the north trail comes over the rise. They was sitting down under a tree resting their hosses when I come along. I got into an argument with this Sinclair—Long Riley, he called himself."
"Riley's his first name."