Some men were
playing cards at a table in the rear, but he paid them no heed. Very
deliberately he squared himself to the bar and placed his foot upon the
brass rail: "Give me some red liquor," he ordered. And when the
bartender set out the bottle and the glass the cowboy poured it full
and drank it at a gulp. He poured out another, and then a third, and a
fourth. The bartender eyed him narrowly: "Ain't you goin' it a little
strong, pardner?" he asked. The Texan stared at him as if he had not
heard, and answered nothing. A smile bent the white aproned one's lips
as he glanced into his customer's eyes still black from the blow Curt
had dealt him in the coulee.
"Them lamps of yourn was turned up too high, wasn't they?" he asked.
The cowboy nodded, thoughtfully: "Yes, that's it. They was turned up
too high--a damn sight too high for me, I reckon."
"Git bucked off?"
The blackened eyes narrowed ever so slightly: "No. A guard done that."
"A guard?"
"Yes, a guard." The Texan poured out his fifth drink. "In the pen, it
was."
"In the pen!" The bartender was itching with curiosity. "You don't
look like a jail-bird. They musta got the wrong guy?" he suggested.
"No. I killed him, all right. I shot his ears off first, an' then
plugged him between the eyes before he could draw.
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