“Cheese it!” relentlessly continued Larry, interrupting the threatened verbal deluge. “Don’t be all day about it, Windy,” he cried; “who is he?”
“Why, a friend of mine, Tom Davis,” lied Bill. “He just wiped out a bunch of Apaches, like I was telling you. They was a-chasing me some plentiful and things was getting real interesting when he chipped in and took a hand from behind. And he certainly cleaned ’em up brown, he shore did! Say, I’ll bet you, even money, that he can lick the sheriff, or even The Orphant! He’s a holy terror on wheels, that’s what he is! Talk about lightning on the shoot–and he can hit twice in the same place, too, if he wants to, though there ain’t no use of it when he gets there once. The way he can heave lead is enough to make––”
“Choke it, Bill, choke it!” testily ordered Curley Smith, whose reputation was unsavory. “Tell us why in h–l he hit th’ trail so all-fired hard. Is yore friend some bashful?” he inquired ironically.
“Well,” replied Bill, grinning exasperatingly, “it all depends on how you looks at it. Women say he is, men swear he ain’t; you can take your choice. But they do say he ain’t no ladies’ man,” he jabbed maliciously, well knowing that Curley prided himself on being a “lady-killer.”
“Th’ h–l he ain’t!” retorted Curley, with a show of anger, preparing to argue, which would take time; and Bill was trying to give the outlaw a good start of them. “Th’ h–l he ain’t!” he repeated, leaning aggressively forward. “Yu keep yore opinions close to home, yu big-mouthed coyote!”
“Well, you asked me, didn’t you?” replied Bill. “And I told you, didn’t I? He’s a good man all around, and say, you should oughter hear him sing! He’s a singer from Singersville, he is. Got the finest voice this side of Chicago, that’s what.”
“That’s real interesting, and just what we was askin’ yu about,” replied Larry with withering sarcasm. “An’ bein’ so, Windy, we’ll shore give him all the music he wants to sing to before dark if we gets him. Yore lying ability is real highfalutin’. Now, suppose yu tell th’ truth before we drag it outen yu–who is he?”
“You ought to know it by this time. Didn’t I say his name is Tom Davis?” he replied, crossing his legs, his face wearing a bored look. “How many names do you think he’s got, anyhow? Ain’t one enough?”
“Look a-here!” cried Curley, pushing forward. “Was that th’ d––d Orphant? Come on, now, talk straight!”
“Orphant!” ejaculated Bill in surprise. “Did you say Orphant? Orphant nothing!” he responded. “What in h–l do you think I’d be lying about him for? Do I look easy? He ain’t no friend of mine! Besides, I wouldn’t know him if I saw him, never having seen that frisky gent. Holy gee! is the Orphant loose in this country, out here along my route!” he cried, simulating alarm.