struck Kansas City first, then Chicago, spending a few days in each of them. I 'd heard a lot about New York, an' headed for it. I had n't been there very long before I met a woman, an' you know they can turn us punchers into fool knots. Well, I courted her four days an' married her—oh, I was plumb in love with her, all right. She was one of them sweet, dreamy, clingin' kind—pretty as h—l, too. I had a good job by then, and for most a year I was too happy to put my feet on this common old earth. I never gambled, never drank, and found it not very hard to quit cussing, except on real, high-toned occasions. But I never could get along without my gun. Civilization be d—d! There 's more crooks an' killers in New York than you an' me ever saw or heard of. Once I was glad I had it—did n't have to shoot, though. Th' man got careless an' let his gun waver a little an' was lookin' at th' works in mine before he knowed it. He did n't want no money—what he needed was a match, an' he was doin' it to win a bet—or so he palavers. I takes his stubby .32 an' kicks him so he 'd earn that bet, an' lets him go. I had to laugh—him stackin' agin me at that game!

"Well, I got promoted, an' had to travel out of town every two weeks. I 'd be gone two days an' then turn up bright an' smilin' for my wife to admire. Once I was wired to come back quick on account of somethin' unexpected turnin' up, an' I lopes home to spend that second night in my own bed. I remember now that I wondered if th' wife would be there or at her mother's.

"She was there, but she was n't admirin' me. I saw red, an' th' fact that I did n't go loco proved that I ain't never goin'. But th' trigger hung on a breath an' he knowed it. He was pasty white an' could n't hardly stand up. Then th' shock wore off an' he was th' coolest man in town.

"'What are you goin' to do about it?' he asks, slowly. 'Yore wife loves me, not you. She 's allus loved me—you never really reckoned she was in love with you, did you?"

"I was shocked then, only I was wearin' my poker face an' he could n't see nothin'. 'Why, I did think, once in a while, that she loved me,' I retorts. 'I certainly kept you hangin' 'round th' gutter an' sneakin' in, anyhow. When I get through with you they 'll find you in that same gutter.'

"'Goin' to shoot me? I ought to have a chance. I ain't got no gun—you see, I ain't wild an' woolly like you,' an' he actually grinned!

"'What kind of a chance did I have, out of town an' not suspectin' any thin'?' I asks.

"'But she loves me; don't you understand? She was happy with me. What good will it do you if you kill me an' break her heart? She 'll never look at you again.'

"'I reckon she won't anyhow,' I retorts. 'Leastwise not if I can help it. Look here: Don't you know you deserve to die?'

"'That's open to debate, but for brevity I 'll say yes; but I want a chance. I gave you a chance every time I came here—you did n't take it, that's all.'

"'I 'll get you a gun, d—d if I won't,' I replied, an' backed towards th' valise where my big old Colt was. But he stops me with a sneer.

"'I said a chance! You was born with a gun in your hand, an' it 'd be pure murder.'

"'I 'm glad somethin 's pure,' says I. Then I remembered that old valise again. Remember th' last thing I did for you an' Peters before I quit, Hoppy?"

Hopalong thought quickly. "Yes, you an' Pete put in two days settin' poisoned cows in th' brush on th' west line. Did a good job, too. Ain't been bothered none by wolves since."

Tex chuckled. "There was a bottle of yore stuff in that war-bag an' it was half full. I don't remember puttin' it there, but there she was. So I takes it an' holds it up for him to look at, readin' th' label out loud. That was th' only time my wife says a word, an' she says his name, sorrowful; then she goes on lookin' from him to me an' from me to him.

"He laughs at me an' sneers again. 'Think I 'm go in' to eat that?' he says.

"I don't answer. I 'm too busy workin' with one hand an' watchin' him. I knowed he did n't have no gun, but there was chairs an' bottles a-plenty. I got down a bottle of bitters an' poured some of it in a couple of glasses. Then I drops in some pain-killer an' stirs it up. It does n't mix very well, so I pushed th' remains of their supper to one side an' slips th' two glasses under th' table cloth, holdin' one edge of it in my teeth so it would n't touch th' glasses an' let him follow 'em. If they 'd been cards I 'd 'a' spread 'em monte-fashion under his nose—but they was n't.

"'Now, you skunk—take your pick an' don't wrangle no more about yore chances. An' you drink it before I drink mine, or I 'll blow yore cussed ribs loose!'

"I had given him credit for havin' a-plenty nerve, but now I sees it was n't nerve at all—just gall. He was pasty white again, almost green, an' his little soul plumb tried to climb out of his eyes. I was a whole lot surprised at how he went to pieces an' I was savagely elated at th' way he was a-starin' at that cloth. He looks at me for an instant and then back at th' little shell game on th' table' an' he says in a weak, thin voice: 'How 'd I know—you 'll drink—yourn?'

"'You ain't supposed to be knowin' anythin' about my habits while I 've got this gun—an' it's gettin' plumb heavy, too,' I retorts. 'You 've been yellin' about an even break, an' there it is. An' if it 'll hurry things any I 'll pick up my glass now an' drink it as soon as I see yore glass empty, an' yore Adam's apple bob enough. We won't have to wait very long before we get results. You 'll pick yore glass an' drain it or you 'll stop lead.' An' I did n't care, Hoppy, which one he got—I was worse'n dead then—what th' h—l did I care about livin'?

"I reached out to get my glass as soon as he had his'n an' I laid th' gun on my knee, knowin' he did n't have no weapon, an' that I could get th' drop before he could swing a bottle or chair. But I knowed wrong. He was a liar. As I touched my glass his hand streaks for his hip pocket. I gave him th' liquor in his eyes an' lunged for his gun hand just in time. Then I lets loose all th' rage that was boilin' in me an' when I gets tired of punishin' him, I throws him at th' feet of th' woman, picks up both guns, gets what personal duffle I need, an' blows th' ranch. His face was even all over, his nose was busted, his teeth stuck in his lips, an' he had a broken gun-wrist that gave somebody a whole lot of trouble before it worked right again, if it ever did. I 'm glad I did n't shoot him—there was a lot more of satisfaction doin' it with my naked hands. It was man to man an' I played with him, with all his extra twenty pounds. By G—d, I can feel it yet!"

During the short pause