“Pard, I reckon he’s daid,” mused the cowboy.  “I didn’t look to see....  Fust gun I’ve throwed fer long....  It ’ll come back now, shorer ’n hell!”

“What ’ll come back?” queried Neale.

Larry did not answer this.

“Who’d you shoot?” Neale went on.

“Pard, I reckon it ain’t my way to gab a lot,” replied Larry.

“But you’ll tell me,” insisted Neale, passionately.  He jerked the gun and belt from Larry, and threw them on the bed.  “All right,” drawled Larry, taking a deep breath.  “I went into Stanton’s hall the other night, an’ a pretty girl made eyes at me.  Wal, I shore asked her to dance.  I reckon we’d been good pards if we’d been let alone.  But there’s a heap of fellers runnin’ her an’ some of them didn’t cotton to me.  One they called Cordy—­he shore did get offensive.  He’s the four-flush, loud kind.  I didn’t want to make any trouble for the girl Ruby—­thet’s her name—­so I was mighty good-natured....  I dropped in Stanton’s to-day.  Ruby spotted me fust off, an’ she asked me to dance.  Shore I’m no dandy dancer, but I tried to learn.  We was gettin’ along powerful nice when in comes Cordy, hoppin’ mad.  He had a feller with him.  An’ both had been triflin’ with red liquor.  You oughter seen the crowd get back.  Made me think Cordy an’ his pard had blowed a lot round heah an’ got a rep.  Wal, I knowed they was bluff.  Jest mean, ugly four-flushers.  Shore they didn’t an’ couldn’t know nothin’ of me.  I reckon I was only thet long-legged, red-headed galoot from Texas.  Anyhow, I was made to understand it might get hot sudden-like if I didn’t clear out.  I left it to the girl.  An’ some of them girls is full of hell.  Ruby jest stood there scornful an’ sassy, with her haid leanin’ to one side, her eyes half-shut, an’ a little smile on her face.  I’d call her more ’n hell.  A nice girl gone wrong.  Them kind shore is the dangerest....  Wal, she says:  ‘Reddy, are you goin’ to let them run you out of heah?  They haven’t any strings on me.’  So I slapped Cordy’s face an’ told him to shut up.  He let out a roar an’ got wild with his hands, like them four-flush fellers do who wants to look real bad.  I says, pretty sharplike, ‘Don’t make any moves now!’ An’ the darned fool went fer his gun! ...  Wal, I caught his hand, twisted the gun away from him, poked him in the ribs with it, an’ then shoved it back in his belt.  He was crazy, but pretty pale an’ surprised.  Shore I acted sudden-like.  Then I says, ’My festive gent, if you think of thet move again you’ll be stiff before you start it.’ ...  Guess he believed me.”

Larry paused in his narrative, wiped his face, and moistened his lips.  Evidently he was considerably shaken.

“Well, go on,” said Neale, impatiently,

“Thet was all right so far as it went,” resumed Larry.  “But the pard of Cordy’s—­he was half-drunk an’ a big brag, anyhow.  He took up Cordy’s quarrel.  He hollered so he stopped the music an’ drove ’most everybody out of the hall.  They was peepin’ in at the door.  But Ruby stayed.  There’s a game kid, an’ I’m goin’ to see her to-morrow.”