“For the way you treat the workers? He knows you are giving short weights.”
“Oh hell!” said the other. “Where do you suppose he got the money for your college?”
There was a pause; at last the marshal asked, defiantly, “Have you got what you want?”
“Yes,” replied Hal. “Of course, I thought it all along, but it's hard to convince other people. Old Peter's not like most of these Western wolves, you know; he's a pious high-church man.”
The marshal smiled grimly. “So long as there are sheep,” said he, “there'll be wolves in sheep's clothing.”
“I see,” said Hal. “And you leave them to feed on the lambs!”
“If any lamb is silly enough to be fooled by that old worn-out skin,” remarked the marshal, “it deserves to be eaten.”
Hal was studying the cynical face in front of him. “Cotton,” he said, “the shepherds are asleep; but the watch-dogs are barking. Haven't you heard them?”
“I hadn't noticed.”
“They are barking, barking! They are going to wake the shepherds! They are going to save the sheep!”