In spite of the tenseness of the moment the voice that had laughed at death and torture in Round Valley became melting soft as it addressed the girl.
“Law!” said Tharon, “Law––th’ law I promised you on Baston’s porch!”
“Yes? An’ how do you think you’ll get that? If I nod my head we’ll drive this bunch o’ spawn 207 out o’ here so quick it’ll make your head swim! What do you think you’re doin’?”
“I don’t think. I know now. Know what we can do––what th’ law means.”
Courtrey glanced again at Kenset.
“Got some imported knowledge, I take it.”
“Take it or leave it! Show us them guns!” cried Tharon harshly.
“I––don’t––think––so,” said Courtrey, nodding.
Like a pair of snakes gliding forward, Wylackie Bob and the Arizona stranger were suddenly in the foreground, hands hanging apparently loose and careless, in reality tense as strung wires, ready to snap with fire and lead.
The moment was pregnant. The very air seemed charged with danger and death.