“Naw, it’s mine,” declared Dan.
“In your mind it is. It’s mine,” said Mike, aggressively, as though he was seeking for an opportunity to fight for the Angel’s honor.
“Here, here!” cried Shoshone. “Who spoke first. Are you a set of highway robbers trying to hold me up? Set ’em up, Snakey, and here’s your dust. Hats off, boys.”
“To the Angel,” said Mike.
“God bless her!” said Shoshone.
“It is a long trail to Silver Bill’s. Did she go alone?” asked Shoshone, when the ceremony of toasting the absent Angel had been performed.
“Yep,” replied Snakes, gathering the glasses and dipping them into some mysterious liquid in a tub beneath the bar, and which was supposed to be clean water.
“There’s mountain lions out that way,” said Dan, mournfully, “but she had her rifle.”
“Then there’s nuttin’ to worry over. She can outshoot any galoot in the county. Got a testament, Snakes?”
“Sure I have,” said Snakes, producing a sealed pack of cards.