He looked so foolish as he stared at the gun that the crowd rocked with mirth, but Baldy spat like a wild cat.
“What did yuh expect, yuh bum?” he shrieked.
Tad Hicks had been aroused from his sleep by the shot and stared stupidly at Jim Anson.
“When yuh guv it to me, yuh didn’t say it was loaded,” Anson stuttered reproachfully.
Tad held out a wavering hand and picked up the gun.
“Kick that hobo out o’ here,” cried Baldy. Hands seized Jim Anson and sent him spinning to the sidewalk.
Jim Anson disposed of, Baldy turned again to Toothpick and Windy; but before he could speak, Bill Anderson shoved his way to the bar between the killer and the two riders.
“It’s right kind of you, Baldy,” he remarked.
“Huh?” Baldy blinked with surprise. “What yuh mean?”
Bill Anderson looked at him blandly.