Retief got to his feet. "I think I should explain—"
A short-nosed automatic appeared in Lemuel's hand, a clashing note against his fringed buckskins.
"Skip the talk. I know a fink when I see one."
"Just for a change, I'd like to finish a sentence," said Retief. "And I suggest you put your courage back in your pocket before it bites you."
"You talk too damned fancy to suit me."
"Maybe. But I'm talking to suit me. Now, for the last time, put it away."
Lemuel stared at Retief. "You givin' me orders...?"
Retief's left fist shot out, smacked Lemuel's face dead center. He stumbled back, blood starting from his nose; the pistol fired into the dirt as he dropped it. He caught himself, jumped for Retief ... and met a straight right that snapped him onto his back: out cold.
"Wow!" said Potter. "The stranger took Lem ... in two punches!"