"I know the breed. I believe the pup is going to shoot."
At that moment Jesse's glance alighted appreciatively on the sheriff. He was standing with folded arms gazing at the bad man with a challenge in his eyes.
"Steve," said the sheriff in a quiet voice, "I've told you to get out of town before sun-up tomorrow; I've told you to keep out of the gin mills tonight. If you're here five minutes from now I'll kill you."
With that the sheriff turned away.
"Jim," he said to the bartender, "give me a cigar."
But the move came near to being a fatal one for the little officer of the law.
The instant his back was turned, one of the bad man's guns came out with a flash and his eyes blazing with terrible rage he was throwing it down on the man who had given him his final notice to quit.
But he was not quick enough.
"Bang!"
The notorious outlaw's trusty "Colt" had spoken first, and the bad man's gun fell to the floor, as its owner uttered a howl of mingled rage and pain.