“Thank the lady for what she’s done for you,” ordered Sleepy.
“I will, like hell!”
“I only ask once,” said Sleepy warningly. “I hate to hit a cripple, but if you don’t thank Mrs. Hawkworth for takin’ care of you, I’ll make you an invalid for the rest of your life—you dirty, low-down cur.”
Sleepy was close to Jack, and coming closer. Instead of complying with Sleepy’s order, Jack reached inside his coat. Sleepy dived into him, slamming him back against the door jamb, while he almost twisted Jack’s right arm out of the socket in order to force him to drop a small pearl-handled revolver, which he had drawn from an inside pocket.
Sleepy flung him aside and kicked the gun out into the yard.
“Baby had a pretty tooth, didn’t he?” mocked Sleepy. “Now, you cross between a polecat and another one, thank the lady.”
Jack shrank back against the wall, panting with anger, while Sleepy waited for him to regain his breath. Then Jack thanked Lucy for her kindness to him. It was the only way out. He knew that Sleepy would make good his threat, and Jack felt that a live coward was worth several dead heroes.
Hashknife and Ike were coming up with the wagon, so Sleepy let Jack go in to pack up his few belongings.
Hashknife picked up Jack’s revolver and looked at it curiously.
“Shook it out of little ‘Slick-Hair,’” said Sleepy. “He didn’t want to thank Mrs. Hawkworth. Got real huffy and drawed his prize peashooter.”