Remarkably fast, the crowded store was emptying of people.

Blessing remained behind his counter, eyes narrow, with the pistol aimed at Mr. Jaycox.

"Tom, we better be leaving." He put a hand on Tom's shoulder and Tom did what he did, backpedaling slowly until they had made it onto the porch.

''Take the damn thing!" John Blessing roared.

•

The first thing Tom noticed outside was that the young woman in the grey skirt and Mrs. Oke had apparently gone down the hill to get something, because now they were starting back up the hill. The two deputies remained, peeking through the front window, talking about the store owner, who was threatening now to kill himself and anybody who came in the door.

"It's against regulations to pull a gun in a post office," said the short one with two pistols.

"Naw, now -" said the tall one.

"This here's a goddamn post office, ain't it? He can't kill his self in there. If he's breaking postal regulations, we haul him to Guthrie. It's a good hunderd fifty miles, times six cents, plus the federal bounty. That's real money, mister."

The arrested man, sitting down against the wall, snorted, "He's a Indin. He can commit suicide anyplace he wants to."

''You're wrong there, cedar thief," the short deputy said. "He can't do it in a post office. It don't make no difference what kind of Indin he is."

"How in the hell are you going to git to Guthrie?" the cedar thief said vehemently. "Rivers are floodin, and you're too cheap to buy a ticket even if the trains was runnin, you and your damn six cent a mile! Besides which, I ain't goin two hunderd mile across the damn country chained to some son of a bitch that's tryin to kill hisself!"