Page:Short Grass (1926).pdf/71

 quired, giving MacKinnon a cold look. "Ain't my money good?"

"Better than any man's that's crossed my door in many a day. It was to save you a step and help you on your way, lad. You've only got thirty-five minutes left."

"If you'll let me leave it here till the nine-thirty train comes in I'll relieve you of my unwelcome presence," Dunham proposed, very high and cold about it. "I want to see a man that's comin' on that train."

"But—but—I understood, Bill—they were tellin' me, Bill—your hour will be up at nine."

"Nobody but the man that pays me for my time sets my hours for comin' and goin'," Dunham said. "I'm not hired out to anybody in this town. I'll go and come when it suits me."

MacKinnon's hearty countenance slowly lost its ruddy tint as he stood looking at Dunham in stunned amazement.

"You mean you're not goin' when that hour's up?"

"I don't know of anybody that's authorized to set my clock."

"He'll kill you!" MacKinnon whispered. He looked around fearfully, as if he expected to suffer for connivance in this man's defiance. "You've got no more chance than my old woman would have against that man with a gun in her hand. It'll be murder—you'll be throwin' your life away!"

"There's a girl named Zora up at the hardware store," Dunham said, calmly irrelevant, it seemed to MacKinnon. "Do you know the rest of her name?"