"How can you prove that?" he
asked.
"Prove it! Are there not fifty murders to prove it? Vat about
Milman and Van Shorst, and the Nicholson family, and old Mr.
Hyam, and little Billy James, and the others? Prove it! Is
there a man or a voman in this valley vat does not know it?"
"See here!" said McMurdo earnestly. "I want you to take back
what you've said, or else make it good. One or the other you
must do before I quit this room. Put yourself in my place. Here
am I, a stranger in the town. I belong to a society that I know
only as an innocent one. You'll find it through the length and
breadth of the States, but always as an innocent one. Now, when
I am counting upon joining it here, you tell me that it is the
same as a murder society called the Scowrers. I guess you owe me
either an apology or else an explanation, Mr. Shafter."
"I can but tell you vat the whole vorld knows, mister. The
bosses of the one are the bosses of the other. If you offend the
one, it is the other vat vill strike you. We have proved it too
often."
"That's just gossip--I want proof!" said McMurdo.
"If you live here long you vill get your proof.
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