Bud recognized several of the men around the table. There was Culp, a horse-thief from the Sweetgrass range; "Goat" Marlin, who got his nickname from his method of fighting; "Bull" Cook, who had served two years in the penitentiary for cattle rustling.
"A sweet aggregation," reflected Bud, and hoped that none of these men might recognize him. Cook was very drunk and seemed anxious to get into the game, but the seats were all filled.
He leaned heavily on another man and made drunken remarks about the players. Bud moved in closer to him. Cook's belt and holster had shifted around until the gun was hanging almost directly behind him, and by leaning in close and grasping the bottom of the holster, Bud was able to remove the gun without anyone seeing him.
Cook straightened up, still arguing, but did not notice the absence of weight on his belt. He yipped joyfully and staggered toward the bar. Bud concealed the gun in his mackinaw pocket and grinned softly.
The music started again and one of the cowboys essayed a drunken jig. Suddenly a bell tinkled and the music stopped. The cowboy continued his dance until someone grabbed him and forced him to stop. The room was as quiet as a tomb.
After a pause of about fifteen seconds the bell tinkled again and the tension was relaxed.
"A signal from upstairs," observed Bud. "Now, what is upstairs?"
A man beside him was talking.
"Monk she's scare h'all de time. Ho, ho, ho! H'every time somet'ing move—Monk she's ring de bell."