black brows, demanding:

"_Y porqué_? What am I to do?"

"As you are told," Norton snapped at him. "Benny, you and Dick walk
down the street with Antone; you other boys walk down the other way
with Rickard. If they haven't had all the chance to talk together
already that they want, don't give them any more opportunity. Step up,
Rickard."

The Kid sulked, but under the look the sheriff turned on him came
forward and went out, his whole attitude remaining one of defiance.
Antone, his swart face as expressionless as a piece of mahogany,
hesitated, glanced at Galloway, shrugged, and did as Rickard had done,
going out between his two guards. The men remaining in the barroom
were watching their sheriff expectantly. He swung about upon Galloway.

"Now," he said quickly, "who fired the first shot. Galloway?"

Galloway smiled, went to his bar, poured himself a glass of whiskey,
and standing there, the glass twisting slowly in his fingers, stared
back innocently at his interrogator.

"Trying the case already, Judge Norton?" he inquired equably.

"Will you answer?" Norton said coolly.

"Sure." Galloway kept his look steady upon the sheriff's, and into the
innocence of his eyes there came a veiled insolence. "Bisbee shot
first."