“Well, holee-e-e gosh! Say! I used to tend bar in Yuma. Ain’t you Cultus Collins?”
“That’s what they call me.”
“Well, well! My name’s Oscar Link. They used to call me ‘Missin’,’ down in Yuma. I tended bar in the Quien Sabe place for a year. I’ve seen you in there lotsa times. Ain’t it a small world?”
“Ain’t very big,” smiled Cultus. “I reckon I remember you, Oscar.”
“Well, I remember you. I’ve been here almost a year, and I’m sure glad to see yuh.”
They shook hands across the bar. The girl who had thrown the slipper recovered it from the blackjack table, and came over to the bar. She was a tall girl, with olive skin and jet black hair, rather pretty in a dissipated way.
“I didn’t throw that slipper very straight,” she said to Cultus, “but my intentions were good. I’d like to have seen Marsh spanked.”
“I’m much obliged, even if the throw was a little wild,” smiled Cultus.
“Oh, you’re welcome. I thought there was going to be trouble for a minute. Better look out for Van Deen.”
“Is he a bad actor?” asked Cultus.