won't eat it; he shall, if I die for it,' and I just threw him out
quick."

"I see," said Crocker, with a certain sympathy in his voice, "but you
oughter hev waited. You oughter make up to wait from this on, Charley.
'Tain't hard. You don't need to take anythin' and set under it. I'm not
advisin' that, but it's stronger to wait before you go fer any one. The
boys," he added significantly, "don't like a man to bounce, and what
they don't like is pretty hard to do."

"Damn the boys," exclaimed Charley vehemently, "they're all alike out
here. I can't act different. If I waited, I might wait too long--too
long, d'you _sabe?_ I just can't trust myself," he added in a
subdued tone.

"No," replied Crocker meditatively. "No, p'r'aps not. But see here,
Charley, I kinder like you, and so I tell you, no one can bounce the
crowd here in Garotte. They're the worst crowd you ever struck in your
life. Garotte's known for hard cases. Why," he went on earnestly, as if
he had suddenly become conscious of the fact, "the other night Reggitt
and a lot came mighty near goin' fer you--and Harrison, Harrison took up
what you said. You didn't notice, I guess; and p'r'aps 'twas well you
didn't; but you hadn't much to spare. You won by the odd card.

"No one can bounce this camp. They've come from everywhere, and can only
jes' get a livin' here--no more. And when luck's bad they're"--and he
paused as if no adjective were strong enough. "If a man was steel, and
the best and quickest on the draw ever seen, I guess they'd bury him if
he played your way."