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And I think you'll find him somewhere in the hills. That's all I can tell you now." "Him and this young McCrae is tillikums, they tell me," the sheriff suggested. "You think maybe they've met up?" "They may. There's a chance of it." The sheriff considered. "This McCrae is a leetle mite headstrong, I'm told. Sorter apt to act rash." "I'm afraid so." The sheriff shook his head regretfully.
Swiftly he swung out the cylinder of the weapon, ejected the empty shells, refilled the chambers, and snapped it shut. Shiller's door opened. McHale covered it instantly, but it was Shiller himself. "So you done it, did you?" he said. "Sure," said McHale. "He comes a-shootin', and I gets him. Likewise I gets them two tillikums of his if they want it that way."
"It's this way," McHale explained. "This Cross is one of a bad bunch. They'll be out for my scalp. They don't want no law in this. I been hearin' 'bout Cross and this old-timer, Dade. They're great tillikums, and Dade is the old he-coon of the bunch. I ain't takin' a chance on some little tin-starred deputy standin' them off.
"Not exactly. Why?" "Mebbe ye heard that th' water comp'ny is payin' off its men an' shuttin' down. Well, then, there's all iv thim hard-faced tillikums iv Cross, deceased, paid off; an' instid iv gittin' dhrunk like dacint Christians, what do they do but outfit thimselves an' start back fer th' hills, six iv thim an' a divil iv a harrd-bunch, savin' th' leddies' presence.
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