“Meaning?”
“I’m gonna fix him.”
Tug’s laughter barked. “Did you fix him when you had a chance?” he asked ironically.
“Call that a chance? An’ the big stiff wide as a door. ’F I’d had a gun I’d ’a’ croaked him.”
“Oh, if!”
“De bulls frisked me gun in Denver. But I’ll get me a gat somewheres. An’ when I do—” The sentence choked out in a snarl more threatening than words.
“Sounds reasonable,” Tug jeered.
“Listen, ’bo.” Cig laid a hand on the sleeve of the young fellow’s coat. “Listen. Are youse game to take a chance?”
Eyes filled with an expression of sullen distaste of Cig looked at him from a bruised and livid face. “Maybe I am. Maybe I ain’t. What’s on your mind?”
“I’m gonna get that bird. See?”