"You've got a ripping nerve."
"I know it."
"What's your name?"
"Shockley."
"Can you dance?"
"No."
It was Peg Leg's opportunity. He drew his gun. "I reckon maybe you can. Try it," he added, pointing the suggestion with the pistol. Shockley looked foolish; he didn't begin tripping soon enough, and a bullet from the cowboy's gun splintered the baseboard at his feet. Shockley attempted to shuffle. To any one who didn't know him it looked funny. But Peg Leg was a rough dancing master, and before he said enough an ordinary man would have dropped exhausted. Shockley, breathing a good bit quicker, only steadied himself against the bar.
"Take off your hat before gentlemen," cried the cowboy. Shockley hesitated, but he did pull off his cap.
"That's more like it. What's your name?"
"Shockley."