"Guess we'll look in," he said, and stepped past Shoop.
Sundown had closed the door of the bedroom. He was at a loss to
prevent the men entering the house, but once within the house he
determined that they should not enter the bedroom.
He backed toward it and stood with one shoulder against the lintel.
"Come right in. I ain't got to housekeepin' yet, but . . ."
He ceased speaking as he saw Corliss's gaze fixed on the kyacks.
"Where did you get 'em?" queried the rancher.
The men crowded in and gazed curiously at the kyacks--then at Sundown.
Shoop strode forward. "The game's up, Sun. We want the Mexican."
"This is me ranch," said Sundown. "I got the papers--here. You fellas
is sure welcome--only they ain't goin' to be no shootin' or such-like.
I ain't joshin' this time."
A voice broke the succeeding silence. "If the Mexican is in there, we
want him--that's all."
Sundown's eyes became bright with a peculiar expression. Slowly--yet
before any one could realize his intent--he reached down and drew the
Mexican's gun. "You're me friends," he said quietly. "He's in
there--dyin'.
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