Prairie Flowers | Page 8

be some more
casualties reported. If you're all as plumb languid on the draw as yer
fellow citizen here your ranks is sure due to thin out some." The Texan
stooped to recover the bartender's gun from the floor and as he did so
Ike Stork stepped around the corner of the bar, and taking instant
advantage of his position, administered a kick that sent the cowboy
sprawling at the feet of the bartender. Pandemonium broke loose in the
smashing of glass and the thud of blows. Forgetting his injured arm the
bartender joined Stork who had followed up his advantage by leaping
upon the struggling Texan. Reaching over the bar, Green Vest sent the
heavy whisky bottle crashing into the mêlée while his two companions
contributed the array of empty glasses and then valiantly bolted for the
door. The narrowness of the alley behind the bar undoubtedly saved the
struggling Texan from serious mishap. As it was his two assailants
hindered and impeded each other and at the same time formed a buffer
against the shower of glassware that descended from above. Freeing
one hand the Texan began to shoot along the floor. With the first
explosion the bartender scrambled to his feet and leaped onto the bar at
the precise moment that Green Vest, pausing in his flight toward the
door, seized a heavy brass cuspidor and hurled it with both hands. The
whirling missile caught the bartender full in the face and without a

sound he crashed backward carrying Ike Stork with him to the floor.
The next instant the Texan was upon his feet and a gun in each hand,
grinned down into the face of the terrified man who lay helplessly
pinned by the inert form of the bartender. "Any friends or relations you
want notified, Isaac, or any special disposal of the remains?" he
questioned, as the guns waved back and forth above the prostrate man's
face.
"G'wan, shoot if yer goin' to. I ain't packin' no gun. I done my
damnedest when I booted you down, an' we'd of had you at that if them
damned eediots hadn't begun bouncin' bottles an' glasses an' spittoons
offen our head. Shoot--an' for Christ's sake, make a job of it!"
The Texan's grin broadened, and reaching down he rolled the bartender
over, "Get up Ike," he said. "You're a he-one, all right, an' it would be a
pity to waste you."
The other struggled to his feet and as he faced him the Texan saw an
answering grin widen the mouth beneath the heavy moustache. "Pour
us a couple of drinks out of that private stock, an' in the meantime I'll
just fog her up a bit as a warnin' to the curious not to intrude on our
solitude. An', say, watch this, so you can tell 'em out there I can shoot."
Four stacks of chips remained on the table where the players of solo
had abandoned their game, and shooting alternately with either hand,
and so rapidly that the explosions sounded like shots from an automatic,
the Texan cleaned the table and filled the air with a blue-grey haze and
a shower of broken chips. Suddenly he glanced at the clock. Its hands
pointed to half-past four, and with an oath he sent two bullets crashing
into its face. "Four-thirty!" he cried. "A year ago this minute--" He
stopped abruptly.
Ike nodded approval and raised his glass: "Now," he pronounced,
solemnly, "I've got to own that they ain't none of us in Timber City
that's as handy with guns as what you be--but, at that, most of us kin hit
a man reasonable often--an' some of us has."
"I'll give you a chance to do it again, then. But, first, you slip down
cellar there an' h'ist me up a bunch of beer kegs. I'm goin' to build me a

barricade so you birds can't rake the back bar through the window." As
Ike passed up the kegs, the Texan arranged them in such a manner that
from neither windows nor door could anyone upon the outside cover
the space behind the bar, and when Ike came up into the room he shook
his head, gloomily: "What's the big idee," he asked, "of startin' a war
over a dollar an' four bits? It ain't too late yet fer to leave yer guns in
here an' plead guilty to disturbin' the peace. That won't cost you
much--but this way, how in hell do you expect to play a lone hand agin
a whole town an' git away with it? You're either plumb crazy or drunk
or there's somethin' settin' heavy on yer mind----"
"I want my change," insisted the Texan stubbornly, "an' I'm goin' to
take it out in trade, an' also them fines--there's twenty or thirty