"I've seen you somewhere before, but I can't place you.

You want to get out o' town to-night; you're here for no man's good--you've got a 'graft.'" Mose struck him with the flat of his left hand, and, swift as a rattlesnake's stroke, covered him with his revolver.

"Wait right where you are," he said, and the man became rigid.

"I came here as peaceable as any man," Mose went on, "but I don't intend to be ridden out of town by a jackass like you." The other man remained calm.

"If you'll kindly let me unbutton my coat, I'll show you my star; I'm the city marshal." "Be quiet," commanded Mose; "put up your hands!" Mose was aware of an outcry, then a silence, then a rush.
From beneath his coat, quick as a flash of light from a mirror, he drew a second revolver.