“Well,” retorted the gambler, “ain't that the kind to lay violent hands on? You wouldn't expect me to choke old Judge Kenny, or that little Jap laundryman, would you?”
“But O'Rourke is dangerous. He's got two guns reachin' down to his hocks an' he's tellin' everybody he'll get you on sight.”
“Barkin' dogs never bite, Dan. However, I wish you'd carry a message for me. Will you?”
“Who to?”
“The dangerous Mr. O'Rourke. Tell him from me he'd better go back to the borax works at Keeler, where he got his nickname, an' take up his old job o' skinnin' mules. Tell him I'll loan him that roan pony in the corral, an' he can saddle up an' git. Tell him to send the little horse back with the stage-driver. I want him to ride out tonight, Dan. Tell him it's an order.”
Pennycook nodded. “If I was you, though, Harley, I'd heel myself.”
The gambler opened a bureau drawer and brought forth McGraw's automatic pistol. He smiled brightly.
“No use givin' orders unless a feller can back 'em up, Dan” he said. “Thanks for the hint, though. Of course you'll tell Borax privately. No use arousin' his pride lettin' the whole town know he had to go. He's a rat, but a rat'll fight when he's cornered—an' I don't want to kill him.”
“I will” replied Mr. Pennycook. “I'd hate to see any more trouble in this town.”
“Thank you, Dan.”