“‘Fer gosh sake, put up that cannon yuh got stuck in my belly,’ says a good Texican American voice that don’t sound none too old. ‘She might go off, bein’ cocked that-away. Ease ’er tuh half-cock and shove ’er back in yore jeans. Me’n you’s gonna have a medicine talk, Slim.’
“I dunno yet why I done it, but I does as he says without a whimper. He leads me into a saloon down the street and orders two sody pops. I gits a good look at him in the light.
“He’s a kinda runty built kid with a face that’s plenty sprinkled with freckles like some cow has coughed bran in his face. He ain’t much tuh look at till he grins, then he’s right easy tuh stand. He’s got one uh these grins that makes yuh grin right back afore yuh know it. His left eye is black and swole up and his lower lip is split bad. He’s about twenty and a cowpuncher.
“‘My last two bits,’ he ’lows, as he pays fer the sody pop. ‘I bet that’s two bits more than you got, long boy.’
“I admits the charge and he nods happy like.
“‘Then we starts even, feller. Down yore p’izen and loan me the use of a fresh chaw. Then I’m gonna take yuh back and watch yuh pull that Sanchez gent’s fangs.’
“‘Yuh seen him bluff me down?’ I asks, plumb ashamed.
“‘Yeah, I seen it. And I follered yuh outside. I seen yuh while yuh made up yore mind tuh shoot him from the dark.’
“‘How come yuh know I was layin’ fer him?’ says I.
“‘You was talkin’ to yorese’f about it, pardner. All set? Then rattle yore hocks and we’ll git goin’. They th’owed me outa that wigwam last evenin’ after the poker dealer had robbed me uh two months pay.’