The sheriff, whose attention had meanwhile been occupied by Mrs.
Nitschkan, who was creating a lusty disturbance in the middle of the
floor, ran forward, shouting orders. "Let 'em go, I tell you!" to those
who would have pursued the Pearl. "Where's your heads? I told you that
this hall had got to be cleared, and cleared quick, of the women. As for
you, Seagreave," catching Harry by the arm, "don't try to wriggle
through that door. You're under arrest."
"Look here, sheriff, it's snowing heavily. Hugh's blind, as you know,
and can't possibly drive my horse up the hill. I drove Miss Gallito down
in my cart and was to drive her back. You know there's no earthly way
for me to escape, so if you let me drive those two up the hill, I'll
either come back here or you can get me in my cabin."
"So that's your game, son!" the sheriff smiled cynically. "To stir the
boys up now. It's too late. They're all safe home, with their boots off,
and their wives talkin' to them. Even the girl couldn't make 'em forget
the honor of capturing Crop-eared Jose here in Colina, so run along, run
along. The girl's too pretty to be hurt with a frisky horse. My Lord!"
striding down the hall again, "you fools stop scrapping with that
termagant and put her out, put her out, I say."
"Try it yourself," called Nitschkan tauntingly, enjoying to the full her
"hour of glorious strife," and resisting with perfect ease the vague and
chivalrous efforts of half a dozen deputies to hustle her from the hall.
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