“Y’betcha!” Sam Leach got to his feet, indicating that as far as he was concerned the meeting was over.
The others got to their feet as a man entered the doorway and halted just inside.
It was “Harp” Harris, the deputy sheriff. Harp was about two inches over six feet in height, but so thin that he looked much taller. His face was set in lines which combined both hope and despair—with despair predominating. His mouth was wide, his nose thin and almost transparent, while his ears grew at right angles to his face, giving him a perpetual listening expression.
Harp squinted at the three commissioners and shifted his eyes to Brick.
“Havin’ a li’l party, Brick?” he asked softly.
Harp was not any too popular with the commissioners.
“Democrat,” replied Brick, grinning.
Grant and Hendricks forced a smile, as they walked past Harp, but Leach gave Harp a sarcastic squint, bestowed upon him a look of disgust and walked past, with his nose in the air. Harp turned and pursed his lips as he watched Leach disappear. Brick grinned, as Harp turned and snorted softly.
“Some day I’m goin’ t’ just about squirsh that jasper,” said Harp slowly. “Jist squirsh him absolute and final. What did them three fried aigs want, Brick?”
“Their main object was to see if I’ve forgotten that there’s crime among us,” replied Brick.