“Thanks, my friend,” bowed Grant, beaming on Cooper. “It’s sure a relief to know that at last I’m making an impression on one person, at least.”
“Have a peanut,” invited Chub Tuttle. “Can you shoot a pistol?”
“I’m a rip-roarer with a gun.”
“Know how to throw a lasso?”
“Sure. I can rope and tie a wild steer in thirty-six seconds. The world’s record is something like forty-one and a half. But that’s because I’ve never competed in a public steer-roping contest.”
“Bah!” sneered Barker. “Did you ever see a longhorn steer in your life?”
“At least,” returned Grant, gazing fixedly at him, “I’ve seen a long-eared donkey.”
“Score one for the gent from the Panhandle,” snickered Cooper.
“You insolent puppy!” breathed Barker, in a low, savage voice. “You want to be careful of your language, or you’ll have a fight on your hands. Somebody will——”
“I never fight with my fists.”