"
"Y'u bet it does. We're in a hell of a hole, figure it out any
way y'u like. Instead of having shot up a casual idiot, I've
killed Ned Bannister's right-hand man. That will be the
excuse--shooting Morgan. But the real trouble is that I won the
championship belt from your cousin. He already hated y'u like
poison, and he don't love me any too hard. He will have us
arrested by his sheriff here. Catch the point. Y'U'RE NED
BANNISTER, THE OUTLAW, AND I'M HIS RIGHT-BOWER. That's the play
he's going to make, and he's going to make it right soon."
"I don't care if he does. We'll fight him on his own ground.
We'll prove that he's the miscreant and not us."
"Prove nothing," snarled McWilliams. "Do y'u reckon he'll give us
a chance to prove a thing? Not on your life. He'll have us jailed
first thing; then he'll stir up a sentiment against us, and
before morning there will be a lynchingbee, and y'u and I will
wear the neckties. How do y'u like the looks of it?"
"But y'u have a lot of friends. They won't stand for anything
like that."
"Not if they had time to stop it. Trouble is, fellow's friends
think awful slow. They'll arrive in time to cut us down and be
the mourners.
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