Cultus Collins was seated near the front of a restaurant, when Blaze came in, and Blaze sat down across the little table from him. Blaze was in rather a jovial mood, and Cultus wondered what had happened to him.
“Feelin’ pretty good to-day, eh?” he remarked.
“Better than I have for quite a while, Collins.”
“Shotgun medicine, eh?”
Blaze looked at him quizzically, wondering what Cultus meant.
“I don’t quite understand,” he said slowly.
“There ain’t two Blaze Nolans in this valley, is there?”
“No-o-o,” drawled Blaze. “One is plenty.”
“And if that last five seconds had ever been ticked off, there wouldn’t even be one.”
Blaze jerked forward, studying the homely face of Cultus Collins, who was smiling lazily back at him.