Page:Frank Spearman--Whispering Smith.djvu/134

 “Murray, I want to say only this—only this to make things clear. Bucks feels that he’s been treated worse than a dog.”

“Then let him put me back where I belong.”

“It’s a little late for that, Murray; a little late,” said Smith gently. “Shouldn’t you rather take good money and get off the division? Mind you, I say good money, Murray—and peace.”

Sinclair answered without the slightest hesitation: “Not while that man McCloud is here.”

Whispering Smith smiled. “I’ve got no authority to kill McCloud.”

“There are plenty of men in the mountains that don’t need any.”

“But let’s start fair,” urged Whispering Smith softly. He leaned forward with one finger extended in confidence. “Don’t let us have any misunderstanding on the start. Let McCloud alone. If he is killed—now I’m speaking fair and open and making no threats, but I know how it will come out—there will be nothing but killing here for six months. We will make just that memorandum on McCloud. Now about the main question. Every sensible man in the world wants something.”

“I know men that have been going a long time without what they wanted.”

Smith flushed and nodded. “You needn’t have 112