“Wa-al, may I be durned!” he said. “Ef I ever saw anything like that yar, my name ain’t Pecos Pete! He’s knocked Charlie clean out, an’ he ain’t nothin’ but a tenderfoot kid!”
“That’s whatever,” agreed one of the others. “An’ I will allow it wur ther slickest job Hank Kildare ever seen done. Say, young feller, I wants ter shake yer paw!”
Then Kildare, who had a face that was like tanned leather, came up on the veranda and grasped Frank by the hand, wringing the boy’s arm up and down as if it were the handle of a pump.
“Thar ain’t many tenderfeet like you,” he said; “an’ you kin boast o’ bin’ ther fust critter to lay out Injun Charlie.”
“But I wants ter warn yer, youngster,” said Pecos Pete, as he also came up and shook Frank by the hand. “Injun Charlie is bad medicine, an’ he ain’t goin’ ter fergit ye none whatever. When he gits round from this he’ll lay fer yer, an’, ef you know what’s healthy, yer won’t linger round these yar parts.”
“That’s so,” agreed Kildare. “You’ll mosey right lively, an’ take yer friends with yer, fer he may start in ter clean out ther hull bunch, an’ nothin’ but chain lightnin’ will stop him next time. You hear me!”
“Thank you, gentlemen,” smiled Frank, calmly. “I came here with my friends, being invited to attend the tournament here to-day, and we do not propose to be frightened away. If I have further trouble with that man I shall not be so gentle with him.”
“Gentle!” snorted Kildare. “Wa-al, did yer hear that? Gentle! Is that w’at yer calls ther way yer knocked him out, tenderfoot?”
“Gentle!” echoed Pecos Pete. “Why, that last blow o’ your’n would hev knocked down a steer!”
“So yer think you’ll stay?” asked Kildare.