“I might!” snapped Mr. Rooney. “But when Cloudy McGee meets me, will he wait long enough to let me do it? The man has a terrible reputation. Why, there’s a thousand dollars reward for him. Will a man of his type be satisfied with an apology?”
“It would establish a precedent,” murmured Putney. “Still, there is only one thing for you to do and that is to wait and see. McGee is a bank robber, I believe.”
“Exactly.”
“According to that letter, he will be here soon. If I were in your place, I would shut up shop and go away for a vacation.”
“Couldn’t we get out a restraining order, Mr. Putney?”
“Yes, we could do that. But it is not likely that the sheriff would serve it. Would you know Cloudy McGee if you saw him?”
“Not at all. No one in Lost Hills has ever seen him.”
“McGee is a gambler,” remarked Amos Weed, who remembered seeing a general description of McGee on a reward notice. “They say he’ll bet on anything. You might make him a gambling proposition, Rooney.”
“Bet him that he can’t hit me three times out of four eh?” retorted Rooney, as he picked up his letter and went away. Putney knitted his brows, as in deep thought, while Amos Weed gnawed a finger-nail. Suddenly the lawyer got an inspiration. He leaned across the desk so suddenly that Amos almost bit his entire nail off.
“Watch for McGee!” snapped Putney. “You’re in a bad fix, Amos. You might as well die for a goat as a lamb. You say there is ten thousand dollars left in the bank—in cash. All right. What do I get for my scheme?”