"You take it," continued Lounsbury. "Your family's getting darned unpopular here."
The "Babe's" diverging orbs popped from his face and again played from side to side.
"Y-e-e-s," drawled Lounsbury. He ripped open the other's vest. Two pistols were displayed, snuggling head to head. He plucked them out and kicked them across the room. "The morning train," he repeated. "So long."
"Babe" gave a weak nod. Lounsbury walked out. "Howdy, boys, howdy," he said pleasantly as he went. The admiring crowd returned his salute, and rotated back to the bar.
He wasted no further time, but hurried to his store, a saddle-roofed building farther along the street. Before it paced a Fort Lincoln officer. Lounsbury stopped him for news.
"You ought to be chuck full of it," returned the officer, pumping the storekeeper's arm; "just in from New York."
"The redskins?"
"Daytime sortie on us yesterday."
"Pretty sassy. How about Brannon?"
"Nothing since old Lancaster——"