THE AGREEMENT
Jed Parker straightened his back, rolled up the bandana handkerchief, and thrust it into his pocket, hit flat with his hand the touselled mass of his hair, and thrust the long hunting knife into its sheath.
"You're the man I want," said he.
Instantly the two-gun man had jerked loose his weapons and was covering the foreman.
"Am I!" he snarled.
"Not jest that way," explained Parker. "My gun is on my hoss, and you can have this old toad-sticker if you want it. I been looking for you, and took this way of finding you. Now, let's go talk."
The stranger looked him in the eye for nearly a half minute without lowering his revolvers.
"I go you," said he briefly, at last.
But the crowd, missing the purport, and in fact the very occurrence of this colloquy, did not understand. It thought the bluff had been called, and naturally, finding harmless what had intimidated it, gave way to an exasperated impulse to get even.
"You — — — bluffer!" shouted a voice, "don't you think you can run any such ranikaboo here!"