Made me sick inside, the thought of facin' Dozier. Why?
Because I knew he'd never been beat. Because I knew
he was a better man than Allister, and that Allister had
been a better man than me. And it ain't no braggin' to
say I'm a handier gent with my guns than any of you.
Well, I was sick, and you all were sick. I seen your
faces. But who steps out and takes the lead? It was
the kid you grin at, Scottie; it was Andy Lanning, and
I say it was a fine thing to do!"
It was undoubtedly a facer; but Scottie came back in his usual calm manner.
"I know it was Lanning, and it was a fine thing. I don't deny, either, that he's a fine gent in lots of ways—and in his place—but is his place at the head of the gang? Are we going to be bullied into having him there?"
'Then let him follow, and somebody else lead."
"You make me laugh, Jeff. He's not the sort that will follow anybody."
Plainly Scottie was working on Jeff from a distance. He would bring him slowly around to the place where he would agree to the attack on Andrew for the sake of getting at the wounded marshal. And the big man did not have the mental endurance to hold out long against his more agile-minded comrade.
"Have another drink, Jeff, and then let's get back to the main point, and that has nothin' to do with Andy. It is: Is Hal Dozier going to live or die?"
The time had come, Andrew saw, to make his final play. A little more of this talk and the big, good-hearted, strong-handed Rankin would be completely on the side of the others. And that meant the impossible odds of four to one. Andrew knew it. He would attack any two of them without fear. But three became
