Rafe Tuckleton pettishly obeyed, muttering under his breath. It was only too painfully obvious that Reelfoot's remarks had upset him, and he didn't care who knew it.
"Look here, Simon," he said suddenly. "You wanna leave right here your notion that you'll snitch if it comes to the squeak."
"I'll think about it," said Simon, setting down his glass deliberately.
"Because," Rafe continued, as though there had been no interruption, "you wanna remember it's almost as easy to kill two men as it is one."
"I'd thought of that," said Simon, "and I brought two of my men with me to-night. They're down at the saloon waiting for me now."
"A lot of good they are down there," sneered Rafe.
"But they can do you and Arthur here a lot of harm later—if anything happens."
"Don't you trust us?"
"Not so far as I can throw a calf by the tail," was the candid reply. "I'm goin' now. You fellers scratch your heads over what I've said. I ain't gonna go to the pen for anybody, and you can stick a pin in that."
When Simon was gone, the district attorney and Rafe sat in silence while a man, had one been so inclined, might have counted three hundred. Neither looked at the other. Rafe fiddled with his glass on the tabletop. The district attorney rolled a slow cigarette.