"Nothing much. But they say this Sinclair is quite a gunfighter, my friend. Up in his home town they scare the babies by talking about Sinclair."
"H'm," murmured Cartwright. "He can't win always, and maybe I'll be the lucky man."
But he went out of the store with his head thoughtfully inclined.
"Think of meeting up with them two all alone and not knowing what they was!" sighed Sandersen. "He's lucky to be alive, I'll tell a man."
Whitey grinned.
"Plenty of nerve in a gent like that," went on Sandersen, his pale blue eyes becoming dreamy. "Get your gat out, will you, Bill?"
Bill Sandersen obliged.
"Look at the butt. D'you see any point on it?"
"Nope."
"Did you look at that welt on the stranger's head?"