"I don't like th' way you deal," was the frank answer.
"D—n you!" cursed Dave. His hand flew to his gun—and stopped. Over the edge of the table a forty-five was threatening with steady mouth.
"Don't do it, Bud," warned Buck.
Dave's hand slowly moved forward. "A two-gun man, eh?" he sneered.
"Shore. Never bet on th' gun on th' table, Bud. You got a lot to learn. Hit her up or you 'll be late—an' down where I came from it's unhealthy to look through a winder without first makin' a noise."
"Yore argument is good. But I reckon it 'd be a good bet as how you 'll learn somethin' in Twin River you ain't never learned nowhere else." Dave sauntered carelessly to the front door.
"You ain't never too old to learn," agreed Buck, sententiously. The front door closed quietly after Dave and half a minute later his pony's hoofs were heard pounding along the trail that led toward Big Moose.
"Cheyenne, put her there! I like yore style!" Chesty Sutton, late puncher for the Circle X, shoved his hand under Buck's nose with unmistakable friendliness. "I like th' way you play, all right."
"Me, too," chimed in Bow-Wow. "Dave Owens has got th' lickin' of his life. An' between you an' I, Cheyenne, I ain't never seed Dave get licked afore—not reg'lar."
The chorus of congratulations that followed was so sincere that Buck's heart warmed toward the company. Chesty secured attention by pointing his finger at Buck and wagging it impressively. "But you hear me, Cheyenne," he warned. "Dave ain't no quitter. He 's got it agin' you an' he 's h—l on th' shoot. I ain't never heerd of his killin' nobody but he 's right handy spoilin' yore aim. Ain't he, Bow-Wow?"