Sanderson did not answer.
The little man's face worked strangely, and his eyes glowed.
"If you hadn't come when you did, I would have earned my keep, and Alva Dale would be where he wouldn't bother Miss Bransford any more," he said.
Sanderson straightened.

"You'd have shot him, you mean ?" Owen did not speak, merely nodding his head.
Sanderson smiled.

"Then I'm sort of sorry come when I did.

But do you think shootin' Dale would have ended it ?" "No; Dale has friends." Owen leaned toward Sanderson, his face working with passion.

"I hate Dale," he said hoarsely.