“Not on my account,” said Len.
“But he tried to murder yuh, Len. If Hartley⸺”
“If Len ain’t kickin’, where do you come in?” interrupted Harry Cole. “Too much liquor. Bed is the place for him—bed and a doctor.”
“Oh, all right,” grunted Breezy. “Might handcuff him at the same time.”
“I’ll take care of him,” said Cole, and led Prentice out of the saloon.
Len holstered his gun and came slowly over to Hashknife.
“Len, I want yuh to meet Hartley,” said Breezy.
“I want to meet him, Breezy,” Len said soberly, as they shook hands. “And I want to thank Hartley for what he done.”
“Yo’re welcome, Ayres.”
“That’s fine. I reckon he kinda had me foul. I didn’t see him there, Breezy. Mebbe I wouldn’t have noticed him, anyway. He ain’t the same man he was when I left here.”