"Phat th' blazes d'yez mean by thot?" and O'Grady jumped over the counter and stood glaring at Legree.
"I'll explain," said Legree, with a coolness that filled Matt with admiration, "but while I'm talking, O'Grady, don't get between the point of this weapon and that man, there."
"Is ut a hould-up?" demanded O'Grady.
"Not at all. The man behind you knows me, and he knows that he owes me a hundred and twenty dollars."
"I don't know anything of the kind," replied Brisco, every whit as cool as Legree. "You've made a mistake, my man; and, besides, even if I did owe you money, you're trying to collect it in the wrong way."
"Roight yez are!" put in O'Grady. "Shtick thot pisthol in yer pocket an' go off wid yez. This is a dacint, rayspectible hotel, an' guns ain't allowed in th' place at all, at all. Av yez don't hike, begorry, Oi'll call in th' town marshal."
"Call the marshal," said Legree; "he's the man I'd like to have here. That fellow who just bought gasoline and oil at this place is one of the gang who robbed Tomlinson, the Denver jeweler, over west of Ash Fork, and stole the automobile belonging to Nugent, the cattleman——"
Brisco began to laugh.
"What do you think of that, O'Grady?" he cried. "Why, that car you just helped me fill with gasoline is Tomlinson's car! I'm taking it east for him. Who this man is, or what game he's trying to play, is more than I know."
Brisco was edging around toward the side window.