Tex stopped his pacing, alert as a panther. "I ain’t on no side but law an’ order," he slowly replied. "I told that section-gang to stay on th’ right-of-way. They’re leavin’ town early tomorrow mornin’, an’ may not come back. A mob’s a bad thing, Hennery: there’s no tellin’ where it’ll stop. Most of ’em will be full of likker, an’ a drunken mob likes bright fires. Let ’em fire one shack an’ th’ whole town will go: hotel, Mecca, an’ all. It’s yore best play to hold ’em down, or you an’ yore uncle will shore lose a lot of money. Th’ right-of-way is th’ dead line: I’ll hold it ag’in’ either side as long as I can pull a trigger. You hold ’em back, Hennery; an’ if you can’t, don’t you get out in th’ front line--stay well behind!" "Mob’s do get excited," conceded Henry, thoughtfully. "Reckon I’ll go see what Gus thinks about it. See you later." Tex watched him walk away, silhouetted against the faintly illuminated store windows, and as the door slammed behind him the marshal shifted his heavy belts and went slowly up the street and into the hotel, where he received a cold welcome. Seeing that the room was fairly well crowded, accounting for most of the men in town and all of the afternoon crowd, he sat in a corner from where he could see both doors and everything going on. In a few minutes Gus Williams and Henry entered and began mixing with the crowd, which steadily grew more quiet, but more sullen, like some wild beast held back from its prey. Henry sat at one table, surrounded by his closest friends, while his uncle held court at another. The nephew was drinking steadily and his glances at the quiet marshal became more and more suspicious. Around midnight, the temper of the crowd suiting him, Tex arose and went down the street toward his office, passed around it and circled back over the uneven plain, silently reaching the railroad near the box car. Murphy quietly crept out of his bunk, gun in hand, and slipped to the door, pressing his ear against it. Again the drumming of the fingers sounded, but after what had occurred earlier in the day he wanted more than a tapping before he opened the door or betrayed his presence in the car. Soon he heard his name softly called and recognized the voice. As quietly as he could, he slid back the door and peered into the caller’s face from behind a leveled gun. "Don’t let that go off," chuckled Tex, stepping inside. "Close th’ door, Tim."