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Page 37
The latter obeyed with alacrity, and stooping he picked up the fallen
gun. He had an inkling of what was coming.
"Ah-hh!" Slavin gloated gutterally, as he whirled his victim giddily
around and brought the man up facing him with a violent jerk--"Windy
Moran, avick!"--softly and cruelly--"me wud-be cock av a wan-harse
dump!--me wud-be 'bad-man'! . . . Oh, yes! 'tis both shockin' an' brutil
tu misthreat ye I know but--surely, surely yeh desarve somethin' for all
this!" And he drew back his formidable right arm.
Smack! The terrific impact of that one, terrible open-handed slap nearly
knocked his victim through the bar-room wall. The head rocked sideways
and the big body turned completely round. Eyes rushing water and one
profile now resembling a slab of bloodied liver, the man reeled about in
a circle as if bereft of sight.
"Oh-hh!--Ooh!--No-o!--Ah-hh!" The wild, moaning cry for quarter came
gaspingly out of puffed, blood-foamed lips. But there was no mercy in
Slavin. He looked round at the wrecked bar, the glass-slashed bleeding
faces of his men and the rest of the saloon's occupants. He thought upon
many things--how near ignoble death many of them had been but a few
minutes before--upon insult and threat flaunted at them by a drunken,
ruffling braggadocio!--and he jerked the latter to him once more.
But his two subordinates jumped forward and made violent protest.
"Steady!" It was Yorke now who appealed for leniency--"Go easy, Burke!
for God's sake! You've handed him one good swipe--if he get's another
like that he'll be all in--won't be able to talk. Let it go at that!"
The sergeant remained silent, breathing thickly and glaring at his
prisoner with sinister, glittering eyes, and still retaining the latter's
wrist in his iron grip. But eventually the force of Yorke's reasoning
prevailed with him. Drawing out his hand-cuffs he snapped them on the
man's wrists and haled him roughly out of the bar into the hotel office.
The crowd, recovering somewhat from their scare, would have followed, but
he curtly ordered them back and closed the door.
"Brophy!" He beckoned the angry, frightened hotel-proprietor forward.
"Is Bob Ingalls and Chuck Reed still in town?"
"Sure!" replied the latter, "They was both in here 'bout half an hour
ago, anyways."
Slavin turned to Yorke. "Go yu an' hunt up thim fellers an' bring thim
here!" he ordered.
"Ravin'--clean bug-house! that's what he is!" wailed Brophy. "That bar
o' mine! oh, Lord! Yu'll git it soaked to yu' this time, Windy, an'
don't yu' furgit it!"
The prisoner paid no attention to the landlord's revilings. Slumped down
in a chair he had relapsed into a sort of sulky stupor, though he cringed
visibly whenever Slavin bent on him his thoughtful, sinister gaze.
Presently Yorke returned, bringing with him two respectable-looking men,
apparently ranchers, from their appearance.
Slavin nodded familiarly to them. "Ingalls!" he addressed one of them
"I'm given tu undhershtand that yuh an' Chuck Reed there tuk charge av
this feller--" he indicated the prisoner--"last night, whin he had that
racket wid Larry Blake in th' bar? Fwhat was they rowin' over?"
"That hawss o' Blake's mostly," was Ingalls' laconic answer. "Course
they was slingin' everythin' else they could dig down an' drag up, too."
He chewed thoughtfully a moment, "We had some time with 'em," he added.
"Shore did!" struck in Reed. "We was scared fur Larry, so we told him to
beat it home--which he did--an' then we got Windy up to bed an' stayed
with him nigh all night."
Slavin looked at Brophy interrogatively. "Yuh can vouch for this, tu,
Billy? He's bin in yu're place iver since th' throuble smarted?"
Brophy nodded. "Yes! d----n him! I wish he had got out before this
bizness started. Yes! he's bin here right along, Sarjint! why?--what's
up?"
Slavin evaded the direct question for the moment. Silently awhile he
gazed at the three wondering faces. "Now, I'll tell yez!" he said
slowly. And briefly he informed them of the murder--omitting all detail
of the clues obtained later. They listened with wide eyes and broke out
into startled exclamations. The prisoner struggled up from the chair,
his bruised, ghastly face registering fear and genuine astonishment.
Redmond shoved him back again.
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