"Who said I was?"

The words cracked like a whiplash. Simultaneously Pringle's tilted
chair came down to its four legs and Pringle sat poised, his weight on
the balls of his feet, ready for a spring. The sheriff paused midway
of a step; his mottled face grew ashen. A gurgle very like a smothered
chuckle came from Anastacio. Creagan flung himself into the breach.

"Aw, Matt, let's have the girl in here. We can't get nothing from
these stiff-necked idiots."

"Might as well," agreed Lisner in a tone that tried to be contemptuous
but trembled. "We're wasting time here."

"Lisner," said the Major in his gentlest tone, "be well advised and
leave my daughter be."

"And if I don't?" sneered Lisner. He had no real desire to question
Stella, but welcomed the change of venue as a diversion from his late
indiscretion. "If, in the performance of my duty, I put a few
civil questions to Miss Vorhis--in the presence of her father, mind
you--then what?"

"But you won't!" said the Major softly.

"Do you know, Sheriff, I think the Major has the right idea?" said
Pringle. "We won't bother the young lady."

"Who's going to stop me?"