“Now, jump onto me,” he invited Brick. “Abuse me, cowboy. Go ahead and try to be cruel. Ha, ha! Succor is at hand.”
“Sucker?”
The big man came inside and started slowly toward Harp, who threw both hands up to his face, as if to shut out the sight.
“Who’s a sucker?” demanded the big man, shaking himself until the silver conchos of his bat-wing chaps creaked under the strain.
He slapped a big palm against his holster and halted in the middle of the floor.
“Love of gosh!” exclaimed Harp. “It’s little Lord Fauntleroy! Welcome home.”
The big man started toward Harp, but Brick slid between them and he halted.
“You danged cow-town comedians can’t bust up my office,” declared Brick. “Set down, ‘Silent’—you runt.”
Silent Slade flapped his big arms dismally and sank down in the nearest chair.
“I seen them three deuces walk out of here; so I come over to see what the rest of the deck was doin’,” said Silent. “I can smell trouble when I see them three pelicans together.”