have gone crashing through the door in search of him to teach him a
Westerner's opinion of such manners.

Ronicky Doone could not help smiling to himself, as he saw Bill Gregg
stump stiffly down the stairs, limping a little on his wounded leg,
and come back with a grave dignity to the starting point. He was still
crimson to the roots of his hair.

"Let's start," he said. "If that happens again I'll be doing a couple
of murders in this here little town and getting myself hung."

"What happened?"

"An old hag jerked open the door after I rang the bell. I asked her
nice and polite if a lady named Caroline Smith was in the house? 'No,'
says she, 'and if she was, what's that to you?' I told her I'd come a
long ways to see Caroline. 'Then go a long ways back without seeing
Caroline,' says this withered old witch, and she banged the door right
in my face. Man, I'm still seeing red. Them words of the old woman
were whips, and every one of them sure took off the hide. I used to
think that old lady Moore in Martindale was a pretty nasty talker, but
this one laid over her a mile. But we're beat, Ronicky. You couldn't
get by that old woman with a thousand men."

"Maybe not," said Ronicky Doone, "but we're going to try. Did you look
across the street and see a sign a while ago?"

"Which side?"

"Side right opposite Caroline's house."