"You read truly, Harry," said Gardner. "It was a fortunate thing for
Skelly that he was overpowered. Somehow, those two men facing each
other seem, in a way, to typify conditions in this part of the country
at least."

Harry was now watching Travers, who always aroused his interest.
A lawyer, twenty-seven or eight years of age, he had little practice,
and seemed to wish little. He had a wonderful reputation for dexterity
with cards and the pistol. A native of Pendleton, he was the son of
parents from one of the Gulf States, and Harry could never quite feel
that he was one of their own Kentucky blood and breed.

"You can release me," said Travers quietly to the young men who stood on
either side of him holding his arms. "I think the time has come to hunt
bigger game than a fool there like Skelly. He is safe from me."

He spoke with a supercilious scorn which impressed Harry, but which
he did not wholly admire. Travers seemed to him to have the quiet
deadliness of the cobra. There was something about him that repelled.
The men released him. He straightened his long black coat, smoothed the
full ruffles of his shirt and walked away, as if nothing had happened.

Skelly ceased to struggle. The aspect of the crowd, which was largely
hostile, sobered him. Steve Allison, the town constable, appeared and,
putting his hand heavily upon the mountaineer's shoulder, said:

"You come with me, Skelly."

But old Judge Kendrick intervened.