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In point of fact, after what he had seen in the last few minutes, he was not at all anxious to force the issue to actual battle. A good strong bluff would suit him a great deal better. Even odds of six to two were not good enough considering the demonstration he had witnessed. "What is it you want? Another showdown?" asked Clanton unexpectedly. Quantrell's man laughed.
Nevertheless, though he tried to act the philosopher, it cut him that the high-spirited girl had condemned him. He felt himself in a false position from which he could not easily extricate himself. The worst of it was that if it came to a showdown he could not expect the simple truth to exonerate him.
How can you figure on me going out and taking yours, now?" "You ain't going to, maybe," said Bull calmly. "Maybe I'll get to you." "Son," answered the other almost sadly, shaking his head, "when I'm right, with a good, steady nerve, they ain't any man in the world that can sling a gun with me. And tonight I'm right. If it comes to a showdown but are you pretty good with a gun yourself, Bull?"
If it comes to a showdown, lemme advise you, you'd better sidestep Belle. The grief would all be yourn, if you and Belle lock horns, and I'm telling yuh so." They had reached the nearest margin of the herd. Cheyenne, a nameless estray from the Wyoming ranges, chanced to be holding herd where the two rode up. At him Tom looked, suspicion for the moment sharpening his glance.
"Jim's man," he said to himself as the car passed through the Plaza and turned toward the eastern side of the town. Upon reaching home the president told his chauffeur to wait. Slitting an envelope he wrapped the paper and addressed it to James Ewell, Showdown, Arizona. "Mail it at the first box," he said. "Then you can put the car up. I won't need it to-night."
"Showdown!" he muttered under his breath, "I knew it had to come!" He was conscious of a feeling of vast relief. Aloud he responded, blithely and rudely, "Oh! to hell with you!" Yorke checked his horse with a suddenness that brought the animal back onto its haunches.
Henry de Spain can hide out like an Indian and doctor himself. Then, again, I know something about the way he fights; up here, they don't. If those four fellows had ever seen him in action they never would have expected to get out of a room alive, after a showdown with Henry de Spain.
"They've got notions. Mine are different." "Do I get a gun if it comes to a showdown, Billie?" "You do. I'll appoint you a deputy." Jim laughed. "That sounds reasonable." Goodheart joined them. The three men left the back door of the court-house and cut across the square. The station was three blocks distant.
And if the Indian knew anything out of the way about Kedsty, it was mighty important that he, Mercer, get hold of it, for it might prove a trump card with them in the event of a showdown with the Inspector of Police. As a matter of form, Mercer took his temperature. It was perfectly normal, but it was easy for Kent to persuade a notation on the chart a degree above.
He had not come to Showdown to consort with rustlers. He was somewhat of a puzzle but The Spider, true to his name, was silently patient. Meanwhile the desert sun rolled upward and onward, blazing down on the huddled adobes, and slowly filtering into the room. With his back to the bar, Pete idly flicked bits of a broken match at a knot-hole in the floor.
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