Saying which, the old man turned to go, while the court was paralyzed into silence.
But Tom Dosser, a new arrival, and a famous shot, now stepped in front of the old man.
"I ax yer parding," said Tom, in the blandest of tones, "but, uv course, yer didn't mean me when yer mentioned impudent scoundrels?"
"Yes, I did—I meant you, and ev'rybody like yer," replied the old man.
Tom's hand moved toward his pistol. The chairman expeditiously got out of range. Stumpy Flukes promptly retired to the extreme end of the bar, and groaned audibly.
The old man was in the wrong; but, then, wasn't it too mean, when blood was so hard to get out, that these difficulties always took place just after he'd got the floor clean?
"I don't generally shoot till the other feller draws."
"I don't generally shoot till the other feller draws," explained Tom Dosser, while each man in the room wept with emotion as they realized they had lived to see Tom's skill displayed before their very eyes—"I don't generally shoot till the other feller draws; but you'd better be spry. I usually make a little allowance for age, but—"