"Me, I'll be there, son, and I wish you the best of luck."
Gurley was at the bar facing the door when the Ranger walked into the Bird Cage. He had been just ready to gulp down another drink, but as his eyes fell on this youth who came forward with an elastic step the heart died within him. It had been easy while the liquor was in his brain to brag of what he meant to do. It was quite another thing to face in battle this brown, competent youth who could hit silver dollars in the air with a revolver.
His companion read in Gurley's sallow face the dismay that had attacked him. Overstreet turned and faced the newcomer. The outlaw was a short, heavy-set man with remarkably long arms. He had come from Trinidad, Colorado, and brought with him the reputation of a killer. His eyes looked hard at the red-haired youngster, but he made no comment.
Jack spoke to the bartender. He looked at neither of the bad-men, but he was very coolly and alertly on guard.
"Joe, I left my blacksnake at home," he said. "Have you got one handy?"
"Some guys are lucky, Steve," jeered Overstreet, taking his cue from the Ranger. "Because you fell over a box and this fellow beat you up while you was down, he thinks he's a regular go-getter. He looks to me like a counterfeit four-bit piece, if anybody asks you."
Jumbo Wilkins puffed into the place and accepted the Ranger's invitation to take a drink.
"What makes you so gaunted, Jack? You look right peaked," he commented as they waited for their drinks.
"Scared stiff, Jumbo. I hear two wild an' woolly bad-men are after me. One is a tall, lopsided, cock-eyed rooster, an' the other is a hammered-down sawed-off runt. They sure have got me good an' scared. I've been runnin' ever since I heard they were in town."
Gurley gulped down his drink and turned toward the door hastily. "Come, let's go, Overstreet. I got to see a man."