"If it
wasn't fer her, by God! I'd tell you jest as I did before, to git to
hell out of here an' do your damnedest. But it would bust her all up
if I had to do time fer a hold-up. You've got me where you want me, I
guess. But I don't want in on no dirty money from old Lazy Y, nor no
one else. You go it alone--it's your kind of a job.
"This here chloride, or whatever you call it, you sure it won't kill a
man?"
Purdy laughed: "Course it won't. It'll only put him to sleep till I've
had a chanct to win out. I'll git the stuff from Doc an' find out how
much is a dost, an' you kin' slip it in his booze."
As the cowpuncher disappeared through the door, Cinnabar Joe's eyes
narrowed. "You damn skunk!" he muttered, biting viciously upon the
stump of his cigar. "If you was drinkin' anything I'd switch glasses
on _you_, an' then shoot it out with you when you come to. From now on
it's you or me. You've got your hooks into me an' this is only the
beginnin'." The man stopped abruptly and stared for a long time at the
stove-pipe hole in the opposite wall. Then, turning, he studied his
reflection in the mirror behind the bottles and glasses. He tossed
away his cigar, straightened his necktie, and surveyed himself from a
new angle.
"This here Tex, now," he mused. "He sure is a rantankerous cuss when
he's lickered up.
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