Get along with ye!" Bud got along, slipping into the bank by the rear door and taking a hand in the desultory firing in the street.

The sheriff had a couple of men ironed and one man down and the landlord of the hotel was doing a great deal of explaining that he had never seen the bandits before.

Just by way of stimulating his memory Bud threw a bullet close to his heels, and the landlord thereupon grovelled and wept while he protested his innocence.
"He's a damn liar, sheriff," Bud called across the hoof-scarred road.
"He was talking to them about eleven o'clock last night.

There were three that chased me into town, and they got him up out of bed to find out whether I'd stopped there.

I hadn't, luckily for me.