“Bo Snecker,” he said.
“What'd you hide here for?”
He appeared to grow sullen.
“Reckoned I'd be as safe in Longstreth's as anywheres.”
“Ranger, what'll you do with him?” Lawson queried, as if uncertain, now the capture was made.
“I'll see to that,” replied Duane, and he pushed Snecker in front of him out into the court.
Duane had suddenly conceived the idea of taking Snecker before Mayor Longstreth in the court.
When Duane arrived at the hall where court was held there were other men there, a dozen or more, and all seemed excited; evidently, news of Duane had preceded him. Longstreth sat at a table up on a platform. Near him sat a thick-set grizzled man, with deep eyes, and this was Hanford Owens, county judge. To the right stood a tall, angular, yellow-faced fellow with a drooping sandy mustache. Conspicuous on his vest was a huge silver shield. This was Gorsech, one of Longstreth's sheriffs. There were four other men whom Duane knew by sight, several whose faces were familiar, and half a dozen strangers, all dusty horsemen.
Longstreth pounded hard on the table to be heard. Mayor or not, he was unable at once to quell the excitement. Gradually, however, it subsided, and from the last few utterances before quiet was restored Duane gathered that he had intruded upon some kind of a meeting in the hall.
“What'd you break in here for,” demanded Longstreth.