"Want a tech o' ile in dese baals, Colonel," said Chad, examining them
critically. "Got to keep dere moufs clean if you want dese dogs to
bark right;" and he bore away the battery, followed by the colonel,
who went down into the kitchen to see if the fire was hot enough to
cast a few extra bullets.
[Illustration]
Fitz and I, being more concerned about devising some method to prevent
the consequences of the colonel's rash act than in increasing the
facilities for bloodshed, remained where we were and discussed the
possible outcome of the situation.
We had about agreed that should Klutchem demand protection of the
police, and the colonel be hauled up for violating the law of the
State, I should go bail and Fitz employ the lawyer, when we were
startled by a sound like the snap of a percussion-cap, followed by
loud talking in the front yard.
First came a voice in a commanding tone: "Stand where you are! Drop
yo' hand!"
Then Chad's "Don't shoot yit, Colonel."
Fitz and I started for the front door on a run, threw it open, and ran
against Chad standing on the top step with his back to the panels.
Pages:
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122