Harp watched them disappear into the Dollar Down saloon before he got to his feet, carefully wiped the jew’s-harp on his handkerchief, and sauntered forth. Harp Harris had the faculty of appearing to merely saunter along, when he was really going some pace. In other words, he loafed rather swiftly.
He went past Wesson’s store, duly examining the contents of the window display, which had been there as long as Harp could remember, and went on. At what was practically the north end of the main street grew an old cottonwood tree. Harp stopped and looked it over, appearing indifferent. He kicked a piece of loose bark off a protruding root.
From where he stood he could see the Marlin City school-house. It was a rough board structure sans paint, sitting alone amid the sage-brush, about two hund
