"I
don't kmow nothing about you, but I don't mean you should shoot me in
the back. I'm going to tell this to my bunky, an' if I get shot up,
the Troop'll know who done it, and you'll hang for it. Now, what are
you going to do?"
Cahill did not tell what he would do; for, from the other store, the
low voice of Mary Cahill called, "Father! Oh, father!"
The two men dodged, and eyed each other guiltily. The sergeant gazed
at the buffalo-robe portieres with wide-opened eyes. Cahill's hands
dropped from the region of his ears, and fell flat upon the counter.
When Miss Mary Cahill pushed aside the portieres Sergeant Clancey, of
G Troop, was showing her father the mechanism of the new regulation-
revolver. He apparently was having some difficulty with the cylinder,
for his face was red. Her father was eying the gun with the critical
approval of an expert.
"Father," said Miss Cahill petulantly, "why didn't you answer? Where
is the blue stationery--the sort Major Ogden always buys? He's
waiting."
The eyes of the post-trader did not wander from the gun before him.
"Next to the blank books, Mame," he said. "On the second shelf.
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