It wouldn't be right."
"Well, why wouldn't it?" argued the cowboy. "I don't see no harm
in it."
"No," answered Scully with mournful heroism. "It wouldn't be
right. It was Johnnie's fight, and now we mustn't whip the man just
because he whipped Johnnie."
"Yes, that's true enough," said the cowboy; "but- he better not
get fresh with me, because I couldn't stand no more of it."
"You'll not say a word to him," commanded Scully, and even then they
heard the tread of the Swede on the stairs. His entrance was made
theatric. He swept the door back with a bang and swaggered to the
middle of the room. No one looked at him. "Well," he cried,
insolently, at Scully, "I s'pose you'll tell me now how much I owe
you?"
The old man remained stolid. "You don't owe me nothin'."
"Huh!" said the Swede, "huh! Don't owe 'im nothin'."
The cowboy addressed the Swede. "Stranger, I don't see how you
come to be so gay around here."
Old Scully was instantly alert. "Stop!" he shouted, holding his hand
forth, fingers upward. "Bill, you shut up!"
The cowboy spat carelessly into the sawdust box. "I didn't say a
word, did I?" he asked.
"Mr. Scully," called the Swede, "how much do I owe you?" It was seen
that he was attired for departure, and that he had his valise in his
hand.
"You don't owe me nothin'," repeated Scully in his same
imperturbable way.
"Huh!" said the Swede.
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