It was an embarrassing situation. McCullough was not any more callous than the next man, but he found himself wishing his aim had been better. He could hardly allow the Centauran to lie there and bleed to death while he watched, but neither did he feel any particular responsibility in the matter. The native had got what he was asking for, and that was that. Finally he took the native's leather belt and tightened it around the leg for a tourniquet, got another tarp and spread it on the cot, and laid the native on it. The corpse he rolled in the first tarp and pushed under the cot. Throughout the injured Centauran said nothing, either in thanks or protest, although the leg must have been painful. He had just finished when he heard voices in the front yard. Henry Watts was there with half a dozen other men carrying guns and clubs, all looking the worse for wear. Two were dragging a Centauran corpse by the pants legs. Watts mopped at his sweaty, blood-stained face with his shirt-tail. "You still got those two grayskins in there?" he asked. McCullough nodded. "Fine, we'll take 'em off your hands now." Watts half-turned to the men behind him. "Come on, give me a hand to drag 'em out." He started up the steps. "Wait a minute," McCullough said. He did not move out of the door, he was not quite sure why, a moment ago he had been wondering what to do with the natives, and here was Watts offering to take them. It may have been the way they were dragging the Centauran, face down in the mud, that bothered him. "What you going to do with them?" he asked. "We got a use for 'em," Watts said with relish. "We're going to drag all the bodies up in front of Dubois' place and string 'em up to poles there, for a warning. We'll learn those grayskins what to expect, they come messing around here any more. Come on, toss 'em out, we'll take these two along with the rest." "Well, I don't know," McCullough said. "One of these is still alive, I didn't kill him, just crippled him." Watts showed his teeth. "That won't be a problem," he said. McCullough shook his head slowly. He had counted Henry Watts as his friend, but he was not so sure now that he liked him. "No," he said. "I think we better just leave them till the cops come." Watts laughed. "Cops? There ain't going to be any cops coming. We're handling this ourselves. Don't worry about the cops, even if they could get an indictment, there ain't a jury in this town would convict for killing a native." "I'm not worrying about that," McCullough said stolidly, "but I don't like what you fellows are doing, I might as well say right now, and I'm not going to be a party to it. Those natives stay right where they are till the law comes and gets them." Watts' grin faded. "John," he said, "we ain't fooling. I know you're no native-lover, but we're going to clean those devils out once for all. If you won't let us in for them, we'll come in anyway and take 'em."