The Sheriff's Son
did n't get away with it. Now you 'll rob yourself of just the same sum. Frisk yourself, Mr. Smith."
"Not on your life I won't. It … it's an outrage. It's robbery. I 'll not stand for it." His words were brave, but the voice of the man quavered. The bulbous, fishy eyes of the cheat wavered before the implacable ones of the cattleman.
"Come through."
The gambler's gaze passed around the table and found no help from the men he had been robbing. A crowd was beginning to gather. Swiftly he decided to pay forfeit and get out while there was still time. He drew a roll of bills from his pocket and with trembling fingers counted out the sum named. He shoved it across the table and rose.
"Now, take your friend and both of you hit the trail out of town," ordered the cattleman.
Blair had by this time got to his feet and was leaning stupidly on a chair. His companion helped him from the room. At the door he turned and glared at Dingwell.
"You 're going to pay for this—and pay big," he spat out, his voice shaking with rage.
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