The challenge got no response from Tolley but a grimace like that of a wolf in a trap. He did not make a motion to draw his own gun. He was too wise to do that in any event, for he knew he could not beat Joe to it! And then—what did he subsidize these gunmen for if not for such an emergency as this?
“Open your trap, you hound!” commanded Joe. “If you won’t fight, speak!”
“Wait a moment.”
The parson had actually not halted at all when he entered with Joe Hurley. He had merely slowed up. He was approaching Tolley and his men down the long length of the bar. But when he spoke Tom Hicks half drew his gun.
“Mr. Tolley,” Hunt said in the same clear but quiet voice, “will undoubtedly explain and apologize for what we understand he has said about the young woman in question. Come now, Mr. Tolley! you are ready to take back your words, aren’t you? You have no more proof, have you, of your—er—mis-statement than you had several weeks ago when you discussed the affair with Mr. Hurley in my hearing?”
“What are you butting in for?” returned Tolley with a threatening growl.
“For the sake of peace, Mr. Tolley,” explained the parson determinedly.
“Get back, Willie!” Joe ordered from the background.
He dared not draw his gun, for if he did Hunt would be right in the line of fire again. With a single motion Tom Hicks could get into action.
“You derned buttinsky!” spat out Tolley vengefully. “Mind what you are doing, or you’ll stop lead.”