Jed Parker turned humorously to his companion.
"Do we get that talk?" he inquired gently.
For answer the two-gun man turned and walked steadily in the direction of the man who had shouted. The latter's hand strayed uncertainly toward his own weapon, but the movement paused when the stranger's clear, steel eye rested on it.
"This gentleman," pointed out the two-gun man softly, "is an old friend of mine. Don't you get to calling of him names."
His eye swept the bystanders calmly.
"Come on, Jack," said he, addressing Parker.
On the outskirts he encountered the Mexican from whom he had borrowed the knife.
"Here, Tony," said he with a slight laugh, "here's a peso. You'll find your knife back there where I had to drop her."
He entered a saloon, nodded to the proprietor, and led the way through it to a boxlike room containing a board table and two chairs.
"Make good," he commanded briefly.