"What yeh goin' to have, youse?" Purdy had caught sight of Tex who stood between the Bear Paw Pool man and Bat Lajune. "I'm bettin' agin' yeh winnin' the buckin' contest, but I'll buy yeh a drink."
Tex grinned as his eyes travelled with slow insolence over the other's outfit.
"You're sure got up some colourful, Jack," he drawled. "If you sh'd happen to crawl up into the middle of one of them real outlaws they got down in the corral, an' quit him on the top end of a high one, you're a-goin' to look like a rainbow before you git back."
The other scowled: "I guess if I tie onto one of them outlaws yeh'll see me climb off 'bout the time the money's ready. Yeh Texas fellers comes up here an' makes yer brag about showin' us Montana boys how to ride our own horses. But it's real money talks! I don't notice you backin' up yer brag with no real dinero."
Tex was still smiling. "That's because I ain't found anyone damn fool enough to bet agin' me."
"Didn't I jest tell yeh I was bettin' agin' you?"
"Don't bet enough to hurt you none. How much you got, three dollars?
An' how much odds you got to get before you'll risk 'em?"
Purdy reached for his hip pocket. "Jest to show yeh what I think of yer ridin' I'll bet yeh even yeh don't win."
"Well," drawled the Texan, "seein' as they won't be only about ten fellows ride, that makes the odds somewhere around ten to one, which is about right. How much you want to bet?"
With his fingers clutching his roll of bills, Purdy's eyes sought the face of Cinnabar Joe. For an instant he hesitated and then slammed the roll onto the bar.