I asked him how come he thought I was a crook, and he said what else could I call myself. “You take graft, don’t you? You’re getting a dollar out of every five that comes in here?”

“But I have to,” I said. “I mean, it’s kind of a civic duty. If I didn’t keep you people stripped down a little, you’d get too powerful. First thing I know, you’d be running the county instead of me.”

Moose sneered and wobbled to his feet. “You twobit clown,” he said, “will you just get the hell out of here? Will you, or am I gonna have to make you?”

“Well, now,“I said. “Well, now, I don’t know about that. I figure that’s a pretty mean way to talk to a fella that’s always been nice to you.”

“Are you gonna get or not?” He took a step toward me.

“You’d better, Nick,” Curly nodded, pushing himself up. “You kind of make us sick to our stomachs, you know? It may not be your fault, but the air turns bad every time you show up.”

Around the bend, I could see the lights of the ‘Ruby Clark’, and I could hear the whip of the paddles as it fought for the turn. It was that time, it would be that time any second now, and I unholstered my gun and took aim.

“Wha—!” Moose stopped dead in his tracks, his mouth gaping open.

Curly said, “Oh, now, Nick!” forcing a smile to his face. But it was the sickest smile I’ll ever see.

That’s one thing people always know, I guess. They know when they’re going to die. And Moose and Curly knew that they were going to.

“Good night, ye merry gentlemen,” I said. “Hail and farewell.”

The ‘Ruby Clark’ whistled.

By the time the echo died, Moose and Curly were in the river, each with a bullet spang between his eyes.

I waited on the little pier for a minute until the Ruby had gone by. I always say there’s nothing prettier than a steamboat at night. Then I went around on the catwalk, and headed for home.

The courthouse was dark, naturally, when I got there. I took off my boots and crept up the stairs. And I got in bed without waking anyone.

I fell asleep right away. A couple of hours later I waked up, with Myra shaking me.

“Nick! ‘Nick!’ Will you please get up, for pity’s sake!”

“Huh! What?” I said. “What’s going on, Myra?”

But I heard it then, the pounding on the downstairs door. A fella would’ve had to be deaf not to hear it.

“Well, I’ll be dogged,” I said. “Now, who in tarnation can that be?”

“Well, go and see, dammit! Get down there before they wake poor Lennie up!”

I studied about it for a moment, staying right where I was while Myra went on nagging at me. Then I said I wasn’t sure whether I should go downstairs or not, because why for would any honest person be pounding on doors at this time of night?