"Oh, I'm sorry," mourned Billy, genuine concern in his tone. "If I'd only known— However, suppose some one in the stage puts a hole in your face right over the eye, Felix. Have you thought of that?"
Craft nodded. "We have to take some chances."
"That's so. You've got a sporting spirit after all, Crafty. You'd think running a gambling house so long would have taken it out of you, sort of. Might be your ranch has saved you. And suppose I don't feel like having you risk your valuable life, Crafty, what then?"
"Then the deal can be arranged," Tip answered for Craft. "Give us your word Bill, and you can walk out that door and ride back to Golden Bar right after breakfast. Right now, if you don't want to wait."
Billy looked incredulous. "You mean to tell me, Tip, that you'd take my bare word?"
"You're whistling we would," Tip declared heartily. "Everybody knows your word is good."
"I've never broken it yet, but don't you see, once broken, what good is it?"
"But if you give it, you wouldn't break it. We know you."
"But if I give my word to you to do this thing, I will have broken it—to the territory. When I took office I made oath to obey and uphold the laws. I guess maybe you forgot that."
Tip looked a trifle dashed. "Well—" he began.