the same, you're sure gettin' around where I live. Me an' this gent
here"--he waved his hand toward Pat with elaborate formality, to the
huge delight of his audience--"me an' this here gent is first uncles
to that kid, an' any pop-eyed, lop-eared, greasy-fingered cross
between a coyot' an' a jack-rabbit that comes a-pouncin' out o' the
wilds o' civilization to jump our claim by makin' insinuations that
we ain't competent to see that the aforementioned kid has proper
bringin' up an' that Brother Worth ain't a proper daddy for her, had
best come loaded for trouble. For trouble'll sure camp on his trail
'til he's reformed or been safely planted."

In the significant pause that followed no one moved. Texas stood
easily, looking into the eyes of the stranger. Pat shot fierce,
watchful glances around the room, from face to face.

"I trust you get's the force o' my remarks," concluded Texas
suggestively.

The stranger moved uneasily and looked hurriedly about for signs of
sympathy or assistance. Every face was a blank. Texas waited.

"I suppose I was hasty," said the stranger, sullenly. "I beg your
pardon, gentlemen."

"Consider the meetin' dismissed, gentlemen," said Texas, easily. "Me
an' my pardner trusts that the congregation will treasure our
remarks in the future. Now, you bar-tender, everybody drinks on us
to the health and happiness of our respected niece--Miss Barbara
Worth."