The Texan | Page 5

Frisk yourself
an' I'll play you a showdown for them four bits." The other grinned and
held a silver half dollar between his finger and thumb.
"Non! A'm ke'p dat four bit! Dat lucky four bit. A'm ponch hole in
heem an' car' heem roun' ma neck lak' de medicine bag. A'm gon' back
Nort'--me! A'm got no frien's. You de only friend A'm got. You give
me de las' four bit. You, give me de honch to play de t'irteen. A'm git
reech, an' den you mak' de bank, w'at you call, com' 'crost. Now A'm
goin' back to Montan' an' git me de job. Wat de hell!"
"Where's your outfit?" asked the Texan as he carefully stowed the
money in his pockets.
"Ha! Ma outfeet--A'm sell dat outfeet to git de money to com' back
hom'. A'm play wan leetle gam' coon can an' voila! A'm got no money.
De damn Greasaire she ween dat money an' A'm broke. A'm com'
som'tam' on de freight train--som'tam' walk, an' A'm git dees far.
Tomor' A'm git de freight train goin' Nort' an' som'tam' A'm git to
Montan'. Eet ees ver' far, but mebbe-so A'm git dere for fall round-up.
An' Ba Goss, A'm nevaire com' sout' no mor'. Too mooch hot! Too
mooch no wataire! Too mooch, w'at you call, de pizen boog--mebbe-so
in de bed--in de pants--in de boot--you git bite an' den you got to die!
Voila! Wat de hell!"
The Texan laughed and reaching into his pocket drew out two twenty
dollar gold pieces and a ten which thudded upon the table before the
astonished eyes of the half-breed.

"Here, Bat, you're a damn good Injun! You're plumb squanderous with
your money, but you're a good sport. Take that an' buy you a ticket to
as far North as it'll get you. Fifty bucks ort to buy a whole lot of car
ridin'. An' don't you stop to do no gamblin', neither---- Ain't I told you
it's onrespectable an' divertin' to morals? If you don't sabe coon can no
better'n what you do poker, you stand about as much show amongst
these here Greasers as a rabbit in a coyote patch. It was a shame to take
your money this way, but bein' as you're half-white it was up to me to
save you the humiliatin' agony of losin' it to Greasers."
The half-breed pocketed the coins as the other buttoned his shirt and
took another long pull at the bottle.
"Wer' you goin' now?" he asked as the cowpuncher started for the door.
The man paused and regarded him critically. "First off, I'm goin' to get
my horse. An' then me an' you is goin' down to the depot an' you're
a-goin' to buy that there ticket. I'm a-goin' to see that you get it ironclad
an' onredeemable, I ain't got no confidence in no gambler an' bein' as
I've took a sort of likin' to you, I hate to think of you a-walkin' clean to
Montana in them high-heeled boots. After that I'm a-goin' to start out
an' examine this here town of Las Vegas lengthways, crossways, down
through the middle, an' both sides of the crick. An' when that's off my
mind, I'm a-goin' to begin on the rest of the world." He moved his arm
comprehensively and reached for the bottle.
"You wait right here till I get old Ace of Spades," he continued
solemnly when he had rasped the raw liquor from his throat. "If you
ain't here when I come back I'll swallow-fork your ears with this here
gat just to see if my shootin' eye is in practice. The last time I done any
fancy shootin' I was kind of wild--kep' a-hittin' a little to one side an'
the other--not much, only about an inch or so--but it wasn't right good
shootin'."
The half-breed grinned: "A'm stay here till you com' back. A'm fin' dat
you ma frien'. A'm lak' you, bien!"
When the Texan returned, fifteen minutes later, the man of many names
was gone. "It's just like I said, you can't trust no gambler," he muttered,

with a doleful nod of the head. "He's pulled out on me, but he better not
infest the usual marts of midnight. 'Cause I'm a-goin' to start out an'
take in everything that's open in this man's town, an' if I find him I'll
just nachelly show him the onprincipledness of lyin' to a friend."
Stepping to the bar he bought a drink and a moment later swung onto
the big rangy black and clattered down the street. At the edge of the
town he turned and started slowly back, dismounting wherever the
lights of a saloon illumined the dingy street, but never once catching a
glimpse of the figure that followed in