For an instant he hesitated and then slammed the
roll onto the bar.
"She goes as she lays. Count it!"
The bartender picked up the money and ran it through. "Eighty-five,"
he announced, laconically.
"That's more'n I got on me," said Tex ruefully, as he smoothed out
three or four crumpled bills and capped the pile with a gold piece.
Purdy sneered: "It's money talks," he repeated truculently. "'Tain't
hardly worth while foolin' with no piker bets but if that's the best
yeh c'n do I'll drag down to it." He reached for his roll.
"Hold on!" The Texan was still smiling but there was a hard note in his
voice. "She goes as she lays." He turned to the half-breed who stood
close at his elbow.
"Bat. D'you recollect one night back in Las Vegas them four bits I
loant you? Well, just you shell out about forty dollars interest on
them four bits an' we'll call it square for a while." The half-breed
smiled broadly and handed over his roll.
"Forty-five, fifty, sixty, seventy, eighty--" counted Tex, and with a
five-dollar bill between his thumb and forefinger, eyed Purdy
condescendingly: "I'm a-goin' to let you drag down that five if you
want to," he said, "'cause you've sure kissed good-bye to the rest of
it. They ain't any of your doggoned Montana school-ma'm-cayuses but
what I c'n ride slick-heeled, an' with my spurs on--" he paused;
"better drag down the five.
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