"Wouldn't you mind leavin' us together a bit," he requested. In answer to Polly's frightened glance, he continued: "There hain't goin' to be no trouble, only me an' him's got a little business to talk over. Ain't we, Bud? Eh?"
Slim led Polly toward the corral, glancing at Bud over his shoulder with a reassuring smile. "Just you step out yonder a bit and wait," he said to Polly.
"Now, you won't—"
"Can't you trust me any more?" he asked sincerely.
Grasping him by the hand, she looked him fairly and fearlessly in the eye, saying: "I do trust you. I trust you both."
As the girl strode out of ear-shot, Slim, absent-mindedly, kept shaking the hand she had held. Awakening suddenly to the fact that his hand was empty, he looked at it curiously, and sighed. Turning quickly, he slapped his hat on his head, hitched up his chaps, and stepped up to Bud, who stood with a sneer on his lips.
"So you're the man that Polly loves," he said. "She's a good girl, and she loves a thief."
Bud turned on him fiercely, drawing his gun. "Take care!" he warned.
"You won't shoot. If you meant to shoot, you'd 'a' done it long ago, when you pulled your gun," exclaimed Slim coolly.
"I might do it now." Bud held his gun against Slim's breast.