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Updated: June 16, 2025
Now, to be sure, the thick coils of black hair told her sex, but when the broad-brimmed sombrero was pulled well down on her head, when the cartridge-belt and the six-gun were slung about her waist, and most of all when she spurred her mount recklessly across the hills no one could have suspected that this was not some graceful boy born and bred in the mountain-desert, willful as a young mountain lion, and as dangerous.
"No, Steve, I found him; but he persuaded me I oughtn't to travel so fast on this leg. You see, he had a rifle, and my six-gun was outclassed. I couldn't get into range, and decided to hunt cover, after he took another crack at me." "I should think you'd know better than to go hunting bear with a twenty-two." "It ain't a twenty-two; but, for a fact, it don't carry a mile.
"Fore this gun comes out my back. An', besides, it's cocked!" Without a word the croupier counted out the money, arranging it in little piles of gold and silver. As the vagabond swept the coins into his battered Stetson the Texan gave a final twist to the six-gun.
Silent started violently, and his hand moved instinctively to his six-gun. "Did he say Tex Calder?" "He said no less," answered Shorty Rhinehart, and waited to see his news take effect. Silent stood with head bowed, scowling. "Tex Calder's a fool," he said at last. "He ought to know better'n to take to my trail." "He's fast with his gun," suggested Shorty. "Don't I know that?" said Silent.
It was a shade foolish. "Bet your life I can feel the kick!" he agreed, nodding his head. "You can ask anybody." Then Casey discovered something strange in Joe's appearance. He lifted his head, held it very still and regarded Joe attentively. "Say, Joe, what yuh tryin' to do with that six-gun? Tryin' to write your name in the air with it?"
This time it was "I love a lassie." Before the song was finished there came the sound of shuffling feet. One of the men in the next stall was leaving. Curly could not tell which one, nor did he dare look over the top of the partition to find out. He was playing safe. This adventure had caught him so unexpectedly that he had not found time to run back to his room for his six-gun.
Lad, even a kid like you could be a killer with that six-gun. What will you lay ag'in' it?" And his red-stained eyes glanced covetously at the yellow heap of Pierre's money. "How much?" said Pierre eagerly. "Is there enough on the table to buy the gun?" "Buy?" said the other fiercely. "There ain't enough coin west of the Rockies to buy that gun. D'you think I'm yaller enough to sell my six?
Casually Goodheart picked up the piece of wrapping-paper upon which the note had been written. He read aloud the last sentence. "'Crack Sanders one on the bean with your six-gun on account for me. Seems to me if I was you, Buck, I'd alibi myself down the river into Texas as quick as I could jog a bronco along. But, of course, I don't know yore friend Go-Get-'Em as well as you do.
"Mike," said Morgan, and he softened his disbelief with his smile and the good-natured clap on the shoulder, "you sure must of been drinkin' when you seen him do it. I allow Whistlin' Dan could do that an' more, but he ain't human with a gun." "How d'you know?" asked Jack, "I ain't ever seen him packin' a six-gun." "Sure you ain't," answered Morgan, "but I have, an' I seen him use it, too.
This was his guess. He knew he might be wrong. "But I knew how violent he was," the fat man went on. "So I slipped my six-gun into my pocket before we started." "What kind of a gun?" Kirby asked. "A sawed-off .38." "Do you own an automatic?" "No, sir. Wouldn't know how to work one. Never had one in my hands." "You'll get a chance to prove that," Olson jeered. "He doesn't have to prove it.
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