“I heard Hal was anxious to shoot a deer for meat for the camp.”
“The gun was a .35 Winchester.”
“He used judgment. I always liked a .35 for deer,” commented the prisoner.
“A .35 will kill a man, too,” said Matson significantly. “The shells I picked up in front of the camp at Bald Knob would fit the gun taken from the rack at the Triangle Dot.”
“If I had an imagination like you, Aleck, I’d go in for writing these moving pictures. You’re plumb wasting it here.”
Matson rose. “No use spilling words. Are you going to be reasonable or not?”
The men looked at each other with direct, level gaze.
“I aim always to try to be,” replied McCoy.
“Well, will you come through with what I want, or will you hang?”
“Since you put it that way, Sheriff, I reckon I’ll hang.”