He sat down on the sidewalk in front of the sheriff’s office and held his chin in his hands, while he mentally picked a quarrel with Sam Leach. It was a dandy quarrel, ending in a fight, in which Harp beat Sam Leach to within an inch of his life.
There was also a big audience cheering Harp on to kill his opponent, but Harp spared his miserable life. He did not want Leach’s blood on his head. Anyway, he could afford to be generous. The crowd was cheering him now. Crowds are peculiar things.
Then he hugged his elbows to his sides and started the argument all over again. This time it was man to man, but with guns. The crowd had scattered. It was a tense moment. Harp knew that he was quicker on the draw, a better shot than Leach.
“Pull yore gun, Leach,” he said calmly. “Cock it, if yuh wish. Are yuh ready, Leach? All right. I’m givin’ yuh an even break. Now, you give the word yourself.”
And as the hero waited for the signal that would cause him to draw swiftly and send shot after shot into the heart of his hated rival, a horse and buggy came into town.
Harp lifted his head and watched Sam Leach drive past him, with Della Miller beside him. They turned off the main street, going toward Wesson’s house. Harp spat angrily and tried to conjure up another big fight, but the spell was broken.
In a few minutes Leach drove past him again, went into the livery-stable and was gone for some time. Harp knew that the stableman was asleep and that Leach would have to stable his own horse. After a time, Leach came out, leading a saddle-horse, which he mounted. It was still too dark to distinguish objects clearly. Leach lighted a cigar or cigaret and rode slowly up the street, going past Harp once more and heading North.
Harp thought that Leach might be going back to the Wesson house, but he continued out of town.
“In that last fight,” said Harp to himself, “I let him draw and cock his own gun. Huh! In that fist-fight I let up on him, when I had him where I wanted him. But if I ever get at him ag’in he’s got to look out for himself. Bein’ a hero is all right, but I’m all through heroin’ around that danged jigger, y’betcha.”
Harp went into the office and sat down on his cot. Brick was asleep in the back room, so Harp went cautiously. He knew that Cale Wesson would spread the news and that everyone in Marlin City would be informed of the fact that Harp Harris had serenaded Mrs. Wesson at four a.m.