“Lend me your gun, Tex,” Robin had pinched all the feeling out of his voice. He asked for the weapon as casually as he might have asked for a match.
Matthews shook his head.
“I can’t do that, kid,” he said slowly. “You know I can’t.”
“Here. Some of you fellows lend a hand with Tommy.” Steele turned his back on Robin and bent over his fallen friend. With the help of other Block S riders they lifted up the unconscious man while the bar-tender passed over a pitcher of water to revive him.
Robin looked at them a second. It was against the range code for any man in that room to lend him a gun, under such circumstances. He made for the door. There were other men in town, who as yet did not know of this clash. Perhaps—he strode away to the Silver Dollar, and Matthews kept step beside him.
It was the same there. Robin left the saloon, went up past the single row of houses toward the Sutherland store. If he couldn’t borrow he could buy. And still beside him walked Tex Matthews. Half way between saloon and store Robin halted.
“What you stickin’ with me for?” he demanded.
“I’m your friend,” Tex said. “If you ever needed one you do now. After a while I got somethin’ to say to you.”
“It’s all said,” Robin muttered and walked on. “I got to get a gun.”
“Sure. But you won’t get one in this man’s town to-day.”