"Oh, they're still looking for somebody to scalp, eh? Better let
sleeping dogs lie, Bud." Perhaps he could reason the Sheriff out of
this scheme; perhaps convince him that it was not a profitable move on
his part, and that he would in such case have the other party against
him if he ever attempted to use these unfair means.
His thoughts were interrupted by Bud, who said, with a knowing look at
Clarke, "You'll have to hand that gun over to me, Bill."
"Will I?"
Bud rose, and with a certain amount of assumed dignity said, "I demand
it in my official capacity." As he moved towards Bill he felt Tabywana
creeping behind him. Irritated, he turned and faced the Indian as he
said, "Say, we 'ain't got to take Indians into our confidence, have we?"
Bill, who saw that he might accomplish more if left alone with Bud,
said, kindly: "Tabywana, get Baco up, will you? I want him."
Tabywana knew that he was dismissed, but he trusted Bill, so he only
muttered a warning as he started to do his bidding.
"All right, I can take care of myself, Chief."
Then the Indian left him.
"Come on, Bud, I call you. You got to show me your hand."
"Well, if I want an election it's up to me to make good with Cash's
outfit, ain't it?"
"So you're due for a grandstand play, eh?" was Bill's comment. The way
events were shaping themselves worried him. These rough-shod political
aspirations often led men like Hardy to play to the gallery in order to
win a high-handed election.
Bud went on, sure that Bill would see the reason of his adventure, "I
have always had the bullet that killed Cash, and that's been the only
clew I've ever had."