You've taken 'em from
all the other rumsellers--but this isn't one of your regular
rumshops."
"That's right, Squire. Give it to him," muttered men at door and
windows.
"We all know how the sheriff's office is run in this county." This
statement was made by Talleyrand Sylvester, who came thrusting through
the jam of the hall into the fore-room. "Squire," he whispered,
hoarsely, "I've brought down them quedaws as you told me to. They're
outside. Say the word and we'll light on that old steer in the
plug-hat!"
For an instant there was a glint in the old man's eyes which hinted that
the word would be given. But the impulse was merely the first reckless
one of retaliation. Assault on law, even as represented by such an
unworthy executive as he knew Niles to be, would make too wicked a story
for slander to handle. Slander would be busy enough as it was.
He pushed the eager Sylvester to one side.
"Let me see your warrant, Niles," he requested. The officer passed it
over, with a touch of sudden humility in his demeanor.
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