“Yes; but what of it?”
“It’s bad medicine.”
Hickok laughed with light incredulity.
“Laugh ef yer wanter,” growled the trapper; “but ef thet critter goes along wi’ us you’ll be laughin’ outer ther t’other side o’ yer mouth afore we sees this hyar town o’ Skyline ag’in.”
“Rot! Why, you superstitious old gorilla, what’s a scar on a man’s head got to do with his character?”
“Lissen ter me,” said Nomad impressively: “Ther fust man I ever see what had a scar jes’ like that war a hoss thief what stole frum me ther best hoss I ever had—old Nebuchadnezzar; and that man war hung.”
“You hanged him?”
“I helped to do it; I pulled hard on ther rope.”
“And the second one?” said Wild Bill, laughing.
“Ther second one tolled me inter a game of poker some y’ars back when I war greener than I am now, and swindled me outer everything I had, leavin’ me on’y the old clo’es I stood in; and he’d no doubt took them if they’d been wuth it.”