The officer frowned off his inclination to treat the matter as a jest. “You ort to have more sense than that,” he said, crustily. “Pole's put out heer to work his time out, an' ef everybody in town is allowed to laugh an' joke with him he'd crack about as many rocks as you or me.”
“You are a durn liar, Jeff Dukes,” said Pole, angrily. “You are a-makin' that up to humiliate me furder. You know no law like that never was inforced. Ef I ever git you out in Pea Vine Destrict I 'll knock a dent in that egg-shaped head o' yor'n, an' make them eyes look two ways fer Sunday. You know a gentleman like Alan Bishop wouldn't notice you under ordinary circumstances, an' so you trump up that excuse to git his attention.”
The two men glared at each other, but Pole seemed to get the best of that sort of combat, for the officer only growled.
“You can insult a man when you are under arrest,” he said, “beca'se you know I am under bond to keep the peace. But I'm not afeerd of you.”
“They tell me you are afeerd o' sperits, though,” retorted the prisoner. “They tell me a little nigger boy that was shot when a passle o' skunks went to whip his daddy fer vagrancy stands at the foot o' yore bed ever' night. Oh, I know what I'm a-talkin' about!”
“Yes, you know a lots,” said the man, sullenly, as his eyes fell.
To avoid encouraging the disputants further, Alan walked suddenly away. The marshal took willing advantage of the opportunity and followed him.
“I could make a case agin you,” he said, catching up, “but I know you didn't mean to violate the ordinance.”
“No, of course I didn't,” said Alan; “but I want to know if that fellow could be released if I paid his fine.”
“You are not fool enough to do it, are you?”