Pecos Jones was a little ferret of a man. His face had "undesirable citizen" written all over it.
Siwash Charley was larger, and on the principle that there can be more villain in a large package than in a small one, Siwash was the more undesirable of the two.
He banged the table and scowled so savagely that Pecos Jones pulled himself together with a startled jerk. Before he could say anything, however, a set of knuckles drummed on the door.
Pecos gasped, and stared in affright at Siwash. The latter muttered under his breath, grabbed up a revolver that was lying on the table and stepped to the door.
"Who's thar?" he demanded huskily.
"Murg," came a muffled reply from the other side of the door.
Siwash laughed, shoved a bolt, and pulled the door wide.
"Come in, Murg," said he. "I was sorter expectin' ye."
A smooth-faced man, wearing gauntlets, a long automobile coat, and with goggles pushed up above the visor of his cap, stepped into the room. He carried a rifle over his arm, and for a moment he stood blinking in the yellow lamplight.
Siwash Charley closed the door.