"You're a wonder, Skeet," says I. "And it's a great game as long as you can get away with it. But whisper!" Here I glances around cautious. "You know I'm a friend of yours."
"Oh, sure," says he careless. "What then?"
"Only this," says I. "Here's once when I'm afraid you're about to pull down trouble."
"How's that?" says he, twistin' his neck uneasy.
"Notice the two gents I was just talkin' with," I goes on, "specially the savage-lookin' one with the framed lamps? Well, that was Hubby. He's got one of these hair-trigger dispositions too."
"Pooh!" says Skeet. But he's listenin' close.
"I'm only tellin' you," says I. "Then the big one with the wide shoulders—that's Brother. Reg'lar brute, he is, and a temper——"
That gets him stary eyed. "You—you don't mean," says he, "that——"
"Uh-huh!" says I. "You know you and the young lady was some conspicuous. There's been talk all round the room. They've both heard, and they're beefin' something awful. Course I ain't sayin' they'll spring any gunplay right in the house; but—why, what's wrong, Skeet?"
Honest, he's gone putty faced and panicky. He begins pawin' around for his overcoat.