"She goes as she lays. Count it!"
The bartender picked up the money and ran it through. "Eighty-five," he announced, laconically.
"That's more'n I got on me," said Tex ruefully, as he smoothed out three or four crumpled bills and capped the pile with a gold piece.
Purdy sneered: "It's money talks," he repeated truculently. "'Tain't hardly worth while foolin' with no piker bets but if that's the best yeh c'n do I'll drag down to it." He reached for his roll.
"Hold on!" The Texan was still smiling but there was a hard note in his voice. "She goes as she lays." He turned to the half-breed who stood close at his elbow.
"Bat. D'you recollect one night back in Las Vegas them four bits I loant you? Well, just you shell out about forty dollars interest on them four bits an' we'll call it square for a while." The half-breed smiled broadly and handed over his roll.
"Forty-five, fifty, sixty, seventy, eighty—" counted Tex, and with a five-dollar bill between his thumb and forefinger, eyed Purdy condescendingly: "I'm a-goin' to let you drag down that five if you want to," he said, "'cause you've sure kissed good-bye to the rest of it. They ain't any of your doggoned Montana school-ma'm-cayuses but what I c'n ride slick-heeled, an' with my spurs on—" he paused; "better drag down the five. You might need a little loose change if that girl should happen to get thirsty between dances."
"Jest leave it lay," retorted Purdy; "an' at that, I'll bet I buy her more drinks than what you do."
Tex laughed: "Sure. But there ain't nothin' in buyin' 'em drinks. I've bought 'em drinks all night an' then some other hombre'd step in an'——"
"I'd bet yeh on that, too. I didn't notice her fallin' no hell of a ways fer you."