Hal Smith went into the bar where Clinch stood, oiling a rifle.
"G'wan upstairs," he muttered. "I got a private way on. It's me or
Quintana, now."
"You're going after Quintana?" inquired Smith, carelessly.
"I be. And I want you should git your gun and set up by Evie. And I want you to kill any living human son of a slut that comes botherin' around this here hotel."
"I'm going after Quintana with you, Mike."
"B'gosh you ain't. You're a-goin' to keep watch here."
"No. Trooper Stormont has promised to stay with Eve. You'll need every man to-day, Mike. This isn't a deer drive."
Clinch let his rifle sag across the hollow of his left arm.
"Did you beef to that trooper?" he demanded in his pleasant, misleading way.
"Do you think I'm crazy?" retorted Smith.