“Has the sheriff got an ax to grind, Pard Cody,” asked Wild Bill, “or is he just naturally ugly?”
“A little of both, I reckon.”
“You fellers can’t ride roughshod over the law o’ this State,” cried Bloom.
“We’ll ride roughshod over you,” flung back Wild Bill, “if you give us any more of your back talk. What I’ve gone through to-night hasn’t sweetened my temper any.”
“Have you found out something that proves I’m not a thief?” asked Nate.
“I’m next to a whole lote, Nate, that maybe you never dreamed about,” said Wild Bill. “But wait till the case comes to trial; wait till—— Ah, the parson and the Hebrew! Here’s where we get busy.”
It seemed evident that Isaacs had not come willingly to the jail. The sky pilot had an arm hooked through his and was half dragging him along. From one of the Jew’s hands swung his always-present satchel.
Isaacs’ face was an ashen hue under the lamplight, and with his free hand he pulled nervously at his long beard.
“Here’s Mr. Isaacs, Buffalo Bill,” announced the sky pilot, pushing his companion forward.
“Don’t be scared, Isaacs,” said Wild Bill, getting up from the bench, “you’re only a witness. Sit down.”