The sheriff glared. "You want me to take off my guns? Son, I'd rather go naked!" Jud, the hotel man, had already been insulted once by the sheriff, and he had been biding his time. This seemed an excellent opening. "Looks to me," he remarked, "like Mr. Hunter was right. He's got something pretty serious to say, and he don't want to take no chances on your cutting him short with a bullet!" The sheriff glared at Bull and then cast a swift glance over the faces of the others. He read upon them only one expression--a cold curiosity. Plainly they agreed with Jud, and the sheriff gave way. He took off his belt and tossed it upon a chair near him. Then he faced Bull again, but he faced the big man with half his confidence destroyed. As he had said, he felt worse than naked without his revolvers under his touch, but now he attempted to brave out the situation. "Well," he said jocularly, "what you going to accuse me of, Bull Hunter?" "I'm just going to tell a little story that I been thinking about," said Bull. "Story--nothing!" exclaimed Anderson. "Wait a minute," broke in Jud. "Let him tell this his own way--I think you'd best, sheriff!" Bull was looking at the sheriff and through him into the distance. After all, it was a story, as distinctly a story as if he had it in a book. As he began to tell it, he forgot Sheriff Anderson at the farther end of the table. He talked slowly, bringing the words out one by one, as if what he said were coming to him by inspiration--a kind of second sight. "It starts in," said Bull, "the other night when the gent come in with word that Pete Reeve was out playing cards with Armstrong and losing money. When the sheriff heard that, he started to thinking. He was remembering how he'd hated Armstrong for a good many years, and that made him think that maybe Armstrong would get into trouble with Reeve, because Reeve is a pretty good shot, and the sheriff hoped that, if it come to a showdown, Reeve would shoot Armstrong full of holes. And that started him wishing pretty strong that Armstrong would get killed!" "Do I have to stand here and listen to this fool talk?" demanded the sheriff. "I'm just supposing," said Bull. "Surely they ain't any harm in just supposing?" "Not a bit," decided Jud, who had taken the position of main arbiter. "Well, the sheriff got to wishing Armstrong was dead so strong that it didn't seem he could stand to have him living much more. He told the folks that he was going out to see that no harm come to Armstrong from Reeve. Then he got on his hoss and went out. All the way he was thinking hard. Armstrong was the gent that was sheriff before Anderson; Armstrong was the gent that might get the job and throw him out again. Ain't that clear? Well, the sheriff gets close to the cabin and--" He paused and slowly extended his long arm toward the sheriff. "What'd you do then?" "Me? I heard a shot--"