“Religion don't interest me,” said the other, looking bored; “your kind any more than Old Peter's.”
And suddenly Hal rose to his feet. “Cotton,” said he, “my place is with the flock! I'm going back to my job at the tipple!” And he started towards the door.
SECTION 23.
Jeff Cotton sprang forward. “Stop!” he cried.
But Hal did not stop.
“See here, young man!” cried the marshal. “Don't carry this joke too far!” And he sprang to the door, just ahead of his prisoner. His hand moved toward his hip.
“Draw your gun, Cotton,” said Hal; and, as the marshal obeyed, “Now I will stop. If I obey you in future, it will be at the point of your revolver.”
The marshal's mouth was dangerous-looking. “You may find that in this country there's not so much between the drawing of a gun and the firing of it!”
“I've explained my attitude,” replied Hal. “What are your orders?”
“Come back and sit in this chair.”