"Bible?" snorted Shorty. "His idea of a Bible is fifty-two cards and a
joker. He does his praying with one foot on a footrail."

"He'll sure fit in fine here," drawled Little Joe. "What with a girl for
our boss and a hired hoss-catcher, none of us being good enough to take
the job, we-all will get a mighty fine rep around these parts. You done
yourself proud bringing him up here, Shorty."

"Laugh, damn you," said Shorty, heated to such a point that he
half-forgot his exhaustion. "You ain't been through what I been through.
You ain't man enough to of lasted." The imputation sobered Little Joe and
he shrugged his massive shoulders significantly. Shorty's laugh was shrill
with contempt. "Oh, you're big enough," he sneered. "But what does beef
count agin a lightning flash?" He grew reminiscent. "I seen him bluff
down the Wyoming Kid, yesterday."

A religious silence spread in the bunkhouse. The cowpunchers sat as
stiff as though in Sunday store-clothes. Shorty took advantage of this
favoring hush.

"I find him sitting in at a game of poker and I give him the girl's
letter. He shakes it open saying: 'See that ten and raise you ten more.'
I look over his shoulder as he flips up his cards. He's got a measly
pair of deuces! Then he reads the letter and hands it back to me. 'Is it
as bad as all that?' he says. 'See that other five and raise you
twenty.' 'You're too strong for me Red,' says the gent that was bucking
him--and lays down to that pair of deuces! I read the letter:

"'Dear Mr. Perris,