To the right stood a tall, angular, yellow-faced fellow with a drooping,
sandy mustache. Conspicuous on his vest was a huge silver shield. This
was Gorsech, one of Sampson's sheriffs.
There were four other men whom I knew, several whose faces were
familiar, and half a dozen strangers, all dusty horsemen.
Steele stood apart from them, a little to one side, so that he faced
them all. His hair was disheveled, and his shirt open at the neck. He
looked cool and hard.
When I caught his eye I realized in an instant that the long deferred
action, the beginning of our real fight was at hand.
Sampson pounded hard on the table to be heard. Mayor or not, he was
unable at once to quell the excitement.
Gradually, however, it subsided and from the last few utterances before
quiet was restored I gathered that Steele had intruded upon some kind of
a meeting in the hall.
"Steele, what'd you break in here for?" demanded Sampson.
"Isn't this court? Aren't you the mayor of Linrock?" interrogated
Steele. His voice was so clear and loud, almost piercing, that I saw at
once that he wanted all those outside to hear.
"Yes," replied Sampson. Like flint he seemed, yet I felt his intense
interest.
Pages:
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60