guarded by the tight-lipped man who had watched by the hospital window. This man's name, I learned,
was McCann. He was Ricori's most trusted bodyguard, apparently wholly devoted to his white-haired
chief. He was an interesting character too, and quite approved of me. He was a drawling Southerner who
had been, as he put it, "a cow-nurse down Arizona way, and then got too popular on the Border."
"I'm for you, Doc," he told me. "You're sure good for the boss. Sort of take his mind off business. An'
when I come here I can keep my hands outa my pockets. Any time anybody's cutting in on your cattle,
let me know. I'll ask for a day off."
Then he remarked casually that he "could ring a quarter with six holes at a hundred foot range."
I did not know whether this was meant humorously or seriously. At any rate, Ricori never went anywhere
without him; and it showed me how much he had thought of Peters that he had left McCann to guard him.