"Uh-huh, A'm bor' heem Tex boss for ketch Purdy. An', Ba goss, he
shoot heem on he's head after Purdy draw'd!"

Moore stared aghast. "What? A pilgrim done that? Not on yer life!
He may look an' act like a pilgrim but, take it from me, he's a
desperate character if he got Purdy after he draw'd. It's worser than
if it was Tex. _He_ might of took pity on us, knowin' about the
fambly. But a stranger, an' one that kin git a man like Jack Purdy!
O-o-o-o, my stummick! Bat, I'm 'fraid I'm a-passin' away! These
spells is a-killin' me--an' what'll become of the woman an' the kids?"

The half-breed grinned: "Mebbe-so you kin' pass back agin, Sam. He
ain' got no gun."

Sam Moore ceased to writhe, and sat abruptly erect. "Ain't got no
gun!" he exclaimed. "What did he shoot Purdy with?"

"My gun. He giv' it back to me. A'm bor' heem dat gun li'l while ago."

The deputy sprang to his feet. "Quick, now, Bat!" he roared loudly.
"You slip these irons on him, an' I'll catch up the horses. Don't take
no chances!" He tossed the half-breed a pair of hand-cuffs, and
started after his own horse. "Kill him if he makes a crooked move.
Tell him you're actin' under my authority an' let him understand we're
hard men to tamper with--us sheriffs. We don't stand fer no foolin'."


In Curly Hardee's dance-hall Tex Benton leaned against the wall and
idly watched the couples weave in and out upon the floor to the whining