Page:The Cow Jerry (1925).pdf/247

 Several times he had blown the conch shell until he could feel his ears stretch, to summon Tom to his refreshment. Russius couldn't understand why he lingered out there on the edge of the herd. He was about to take horse and go after him when he saw the three riders approach. From their order of advance toward the wagon, the cook understood that Tom had not received them as a friendly delegation. He was quite ready to take a hand in anything that was to come off on the side of that Texas man.

Cal Withers and his men halted under the tree, close to the cook's dinner spread on the tailboard of the wagon. Withers drew a paper from his shirt pocket, offering it with a sudden lurch, reaching across his own body clumsily, presenting it with his left hand.

"Here's the sheriff's bill of sale. I suppose you're authorized to receive it," he said.

"I don't like a man that does business with his left hand while he's reachin' for his gun with his right," Tom said. "Russius, take these gentlemen's guns and put 'em in the wagon. Don't touch nothing but the leather, gentlemen."

"Keep your guns on you, boys," Withers said, in the calm, advisory way of a man in authority. "Nobody's got the right to take your guns off of you as long as you're inside of the law."

"It's too hot a day to have any argument over it, Colonel Withers," Tom said, in gentle, regretful way. He appeared entirely friendly, almost conciliatory. Only the rifle in his hands seemed to balance and poise.