Johnny Hope backed off warily, retreating toward the sun-dried creek bed, a jagged brown scar across the parched grassland. He carried no weapon and as the others closed in about him in a tightening semi-circle his eyes darted furtively in all directions. But all the faces were stamped, as from a mold, with uncompromising hostility. Johnny licked his lips and said, "I want to bury them. Let me bury them and then I'll go. I promise." DeReggio, the mayor, brandished his club—which was an old rifle