stand.

By the time that Dave had made a tour of two thirds of the room he knew
that Sheriff Sweeney was not among those present. His inquiries
brought out the fact that he must have just left. Dingwell sauntered
toward the door, intending to follow him, but what he saw there changed
his mind. Buck Rutherford and Slim Sanders were lounging together at
one end of the bar. It took no detective to understand that they were
watching the door. A glance to the rear showed Dave two more
Rutherfords at the back exit. That he would have company in case he
left was a safe guess.

The cattleman chuckled. The little devils of mischief already
mentioned danced in his eyes. If they were waiting for him to go, he
would see that they had a long session of it. Dave was in no hurry.
The night was young yet, and in any case the Legal Tender never closed.
The key had been thrown away ten years before. He could sit it out as
long as the Rutherfords could.

Dingwell was confident no move would be made against him in public.
The sentiment of the community had developed since that distant day
when the Rutherford gang had shot down Jack Beaudry in open daylight.
Deviltry had to be done under cover now. Moreover, Dave was in the
peculiar situation of advantage that the outlaws could not kill him
until they knew where he had hidden the gold. So far as the
Rutherfords went, he was just now the goose that laid the golden egg.

He stood chatting with another cattleman for a few moments, then
drifted back to the rear of the hall again. Underneath an elk's head
with magnificent antlers a party sat around a table playing draw poker