"
Neale did not know what to make of Larry's appearance. The cowboy
seemed to be relaxing. His lips, that had been tight, began to
quiver, and his hands shook. Then he swung the heavy gun-belt with
somber and serious air, as if he were undecided about leaving it off
even when about to go to bed.
"Red, you've thrown a gun!" exclaimed Neale.
Larry glanced at him, and Neale sustained a shock.
"Shore," drawled Larry.
"By Heaven! I knew you would," declared Neale, excitedly, and he
clenched his fist. "Did you--you kill some one?"
"Pard, I reckon he's daid," mused the cowboy. "I didn't look to
see.... Fust gun I've throwed fer long.... It 'll come back now,
shorer 'n hell!"
"What 'll come back?" queried Neale.
Larry did not answer this.
"Who'd you shoot?" Neale went on.
"Pard, I reckon it ain't my way to gab a lot," replied Larry.
"But you'll tell ME," insisted Neale, passionately. He jerked the
gun and belt from Larry, and threw them on the bed. "All right,"
drawled Larry, taking a deep breath. "I went into Stanton's hall the
other night, an' a pretty girl made eyes at me. Wal, I shore asked
her to dance. I reckon we'd been good pards if we'd been let alone.
But there's a heap of fellers runnin' her an' some of them didn't
cotton to me.
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