I says,
pretty sharplike, 'Don't make any moves now!' An' the darned fool
went fer his gun! ... Wal, I caught his hand, twisted the gun away
from him, poked him in the ribs with it, an' then shoved it back in
his belt. He was crazy, but pretty pale an' surprised. Shore I acted
sudden-like. Then I says, 'My festive gent, if you THINK of thet
move again you'll be stiff before you start it.' ... Guess he
believed me."
Larry paused in his narrative, wiped his face, and moistened his
lips. Evidently he was considerably shaken.
"Well, go on," said Neale, impatiently,
"Thet was all right so far as it went," resumed Larry. "But the pard
of Cordy's--he was half-drunk an' a big brag, anyhow. He took up
Cordy's quarrel. He hollered so he stopped the music an' drove 'most
everybody out of the hall. They was peepin' in at the door. But Ruby
stayed. There's a game kid, an' I'm goin' to see her to-morrow."
"You are not," declared Neale. "Hurry up. Finish your story."
"Wal, the big bloke swaggered all over me, an' I seen right off thet
he didn't have sense enough to be turned. Then I got cold. I always
used to.... He says, 'Are you goin' to keep away from Ruby?'
"An' I says, very polite, 'I reckon not.'
"Then he throws hisself in shape, like he meant to leap over a hoss,
an' hollers, 'Pull yer gun!'
"I asks, very innocent, 'What for, mister?'
"An' he bawls fer the crowd.
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