Sleed took him to the rear of the room, sat him down at a table and demanded an explanation.
“How could I stop him?” demanded Loper. “I ain’t Sleed. The crowd liked his game, ’cause he told ’em all that it can’t be beat.”
“How much did he win?” growled Sleed.
“I dunno. Prob’ly about two hundred dollars. Tejon Mary got shot, and that kinda busted up the crowd.”
Sleed leaned back and licked the edge of a frayed cigar, while he waited for Loper to explain more.
“I seen Luck talkin’ to the other fellow.”
Sleed snapped the cigar aside and leaned across the table.
“Luck was talkin’ to this old man’s pardner?”
“Yeah.”