But, if you want me to listen to this fellow's talk--" "Hunter is his name--Bull Hunter," said the proprietor.
The sheriff took his place at the far end of the long table.

Like Bull, he preferred to stand.

"Start in your talk," he commanded.
"It looks to me," said Bull gently, "that they's only one gent here that's wearing a gun." He had thrown his own belt on a chair; and now he fixed his eyes on the weapons of Anderson.
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.