“Which I’d say I throw a six-gun about as fast as anybody in these parts.”
“‘Throw a six-gun,’ Mr. Carey?”
“Sure,” he explained. “Flash a six—pull a cannon—draw my revolver.”
“Oh, Mr. Carey! Do you mean that you have ever drawn your revolver upon a man?”
“On a man? Me? I guess maybe you ain’t heard any of the boys tell about me!”
“Oh, yes. Of course, I’ve heard a great deal about Dave Carey. You’re the first man Mr. Carrigan pointed out to me when I came into the dance-hall.”
“Is that straight? Well, Carrigan ain’t a bad hand himself, I guess, but you can see by the way he handles himself that he ain’t much in a fight.”
“Can you tell simply by looking at a man?”
“Easiest thing in the world. Watch their hands. Look at big Maurie Gordon over there. Too big! All beef! No nerve! If him an’ me was to mix, I’d fill him full of lead before he ever got his gun clear.”
“Mr. Corey! You wouldn’t shoot at poor Mr. Gordon?”