Don't reach for that
gun! Are you travelling alone?"
Moore nodded, his hands up, but still grasping the reins.
"Then climb down over the wheel. Jim, take a look under that canvas;
Moore, here, is generally a genial sort o' liar, and we'd better be
sure. All right--hey? Then dismount, Matt, and be quick about it.
Now unbuckle that belt, and hand the whole outfit over to Westcott;
then we'll talk business together."
He shoved his own weapon back into its holster, and faced the prisoner,
who had recovered from his first shock of surprise, and whose
pugnacious temper was beginning to assert itself. Brennan read this in
the man's sulky, defiant glance, and his lips smiled grimly.
"Getting bullish, are you, Matt?" he said, rather softly. "Goin' ter
keep a close tongue in your head; so that's the game? Well, I
wouldn't, son, if I was you. Now, see here, Moore," and the voice
perceptibly hardened, and the marshal's eyes were like flints. "You
know me, I reckon, an' that I ain't much on boys' play. You never
heard tell o' my hittin' anybody just fer fun, did yer?"
There was no answer.
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