“Exactly,” nodded Denis.
“Mebbe you figger on releasin’ Cowley and the ’breed to take a hand?”
“They are my prisoners, Ballard. They remain my prisoners—in that room. I have promised them protection from your lynching party, and intend to keep my promise.”
“Then all I can say is, you’re a durned fool,” exploded Ballard angrily. “We’re goin’ to get Cowley, hear me? If you start any foolin’ like you talk about, we’ll pile into you and make you wish you was somewhere else——”
“Don’t forget, I’m representing the law here,” interposed Denis.
The settler spat scornfully.
“Law—thunder! You ain’t representin’ nothin’, no more’n I am! Just ’cause your brother is Trooper Stewart don’t give you no license to parade around in them clothes, does it? Not much. You ain’t no soldier at all; you’re just an ordinary man like me, and a blamed fool to boot. Are you goin’ to get out the way or not?”
Denis smiled again.
“I’m very sorry, but I must refuse your invitation to move, Mr. Ballard. Please observe that this rifle of mine is cocked, and is trained on your left knee. Now step outside and tell your friends what you’ve heard.”
Without a word more the settler turned and departed scornfully. Striding a dozen feet from the shack door, he waved an arm.