"Now what? I got a permit." "Not any more. It's revoked." "For why?" "There were witnesses this afternoon." "Witnesses? What in hell are you--oh, no! Not that damned dog?" "The puppy belonged to a little girl. You can't claim self-defense this time." "He was coming down here chasing the cats away every day." "So you shot him, like you did Greeley's collie." "Cats count for more. You know well as I do, you can't control the rats around a warehouse without cats." "You've shot five men, too, Erd. Three of them are dead." "I was cleared, you know damned well! Self-defense." "You're too handy with that pistol. Anyway, I didn't file this complaint. It was the child's mother, and she made it stick with the chief. Give me the gun, Erd." "You got a warrant for my arrest?" "No, but I will have in an hour if you insist." "I got a perfect right to protect my property." "Not with a gun. Not any more." "I just get these punks convinced, and now you want to turn loose on me again. Who put you up to this Collin?" "You did. When you shot that pup. I'm not here to debate it. You're breaking the law from this minute on if you don't hand over the gun." "Dammit, Collin, you know how much money I got in there? You know how much I pack around on me sometimes?" "That's your business. You can use the bank and bonded messengers--they get along with dogs." "Telling me how to run my business?" "I'm telling you to give me that gun. You'll get the same police protection as any other citizen." Neff sneered openly. "I'd a been dead thirty years ago depending on cops." "I don't doubt that a minute. You're easy to hate, Erd. Are you going to give me that gun?" "No." "You like things the hard way, don't you?" Burns got back in the squad car and drove off. Neff spat a crater in the wheat-littered dust and got into his own car. * * * * * Two minutes later he turned up Main Street and stopped before city hall. Inside the tiny police station he dropped his pistol on the counter. Bud Ackenbush looked up from his desk. "You could have saved Collin some trouble." Neff stalked out without a word and crossed the street to the Palace Cafe. He ordered a double-thick steak, fried potatoes and pie. He liked the way the waitresses scrambled for the chance to wait on him. Women didn't like him. He was ugly and smelled of sweat, and on the street women looked the other way when they met him. All but the waitresses at the Palace. When he came in they showed their teeth and tongues and wiggled their hips. He was a 50-cent tipper. The important thing was it got him his steak, really double thick and double quick. People could be real efficient. Like brown John. Prod 'em where they live and they'll do anything. Even talk to you. "You look kinda naked tonight, Erd," Gloria kidded.