Roger studied the group for a long time, then suddenly he dropped the
measuring line and strode toward them.
"Right," growled Higgins, doing likewise. "Those fellows aren't just
sightseeing by a darn sight."
Payne studied the men as he approached them. They were dressed in
tourist apparel, but their hard faces belied their clothes. Each
carried a cane, but the thick hands that held them would have appeared
more at home gripping a blackjack or a revolver. The largest of the
trio, a hard-faced man with thin lips, studiously placed himself across
Roger's path.
"Well," he said, with the snarl of the city tough in his tones, "what
can we do for you?"
Roger choked down the rage that lept for mastery in his breast and said
calmly:
"You can explain your insolence to begin with."
"Don't come that--don't try to come that on us, kid! You ain't dealing
with no crackers now. What do you want, huh?"
The hot blood flush passed from Roger; he felt himself growing
comfortably cool; and within he laughed silently.
"No," he said softly, "I can see that you aren't crackers. What jail
held you last?"
The stranger swore foully, a string of oaths that reeked with the
stench of corner saloons. He pushed his hat far back upon his round
head, looked Roger up and down contemptuously, and swore some more.
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