"In that case--"
"Yes, I understand. You'd be willing to accommodate with a hole
in the haid instead of one in the laig. But I'll not trouble
you."
"What are you doing here? Didn't I warn you to attend to your own
business and leave me alone?"
"Seems to me you did load me up with some good advice, but I
plumb forgot to follow it."
The Wolf cursed under his breath. "You came here at your own
risk, then?"
"Well, I did and I didn't," corrected the sheriff easily. "I've
got a five-thousand policy in the Southeastern Life Insurance
Company, so I reckon it's some risk to them. And, by the way,
it's a company I can recommend."
"Does it insure against suicide?" asked Leroy, his masked,
smiling face veiling thinly a ruthless purpose.
"And against hanging. Let me strongly urge you to take out a
policy at once," came the prompt retort.
"You think it necessary?"
"Quite. When you and York Neil and Hardman made an end of Scott
you threw ropes round your own necks. Any locoed tenderfoot would
know that."
The sheriff's unflinching look met the outlaw's black frown
serene and clear-eyed.
"And would he know that you had committed suicide when you ran
this place down and came here?" asked Leroy, with silken cruelty.
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