“Come on!” cried the challenger, backing away.
Thompson, thoroughly angry, reached over and slapped his antagonist. The latter promptly drew another revolver from beneath his coat, but before he could aim it Thompson jumped at his throat and disarmed him. At this moment Crawford interfered, apparently as peacemaker. Thompson was later told secretly by the barkeeper that the scheme was to lure him into a pistol fight in the street, when Crawford would be ready to shoot him as soon as the first shot was fired.
On the strength of his interference Crawford next pretended to friendship, and spent much of his time at Thompson’s store. Thompson was in no way deceived. This state of affairs continued for two days. It terminated in the following manner: Crawford, sitting half on the counter, and talking with all the great charm of which he was master, led the subject to weapons.
“This revolver of mine,” said he, at the same time drawing 338 the weapon from its holster, “is one of the old navy model. You don’t often see them nowadays. It has a double lock.” He cocked it as though to illustrate his point, and the muzzle, as though by accident, swept toward the other man. He looked up from his affected close examination to find that Thompson had also drawn his weapon and that the barrel was pointing uncompromisingly in his direction.
For a moment the two stared each other in the eye. Then Crawford sheathed his pistol with an oath.
“What do you mean by that?” he cried.
“I mean,” said Thompson firmly, “that I do not intend you shall get the advantage of me. You know my opinion of you and your gang. I shall not be shot by any of you, if I can help it.”
Crawford withdrew quietly, but later in the day approached a big group of us, one of which was Thompson.
“There’s a matter between you and me has got to be settled!” he cried.
“Well, I can’t imagine what it is,” replied Thompson. “I’m not aware that I’ve said or done anything to you that needs settlement.”