“Them sheep—has they been trained?” I asks.
“They’ve been here two days,” says Magpie. “They ought to be used to the stage.”
Sudden-like we hears a crash down-stairs, the sound of loud voices raised in anger, and then up the stairs comes Judge Steele, Wick Smith, Pete Gonyer, Art Wheeler and Sam Holt. They’ve got Scenery Sims in their clutches, and he’s squeaking like a rusty gate. They files into the door, and Magpie greets ’em with a gun in each hand.
“Come ye in anger?” asks Magpie.
“Kinda,” admits Pete. “This whangdoodle tried to stop us.”
“Put your hands up!” snaps Magpie, and the whole gang reach upward. “Take their guns away, Scenery.”
“Now,” says Magpie, “what’s eatin’ you backsliders?”
“Ma-a-a,” wails Testament. “You ain’t aimin’ to carry out your threat, are ye?”
“I’m goin’ to dance—if that’s what you mean,” says Mrs. Tilton, mean-like.
“Arabellie, does you mean that you womin—” begins Wick.