Night was coming on when Milk River and I turned into Corkscrew’s crooked street. It was too late for the Canyon House’s dining-room, so we got down in front of the Jew’s shack.
Chick Orr was standing in the Border Palace doorway. He turned his hammered mug to call something over his shoulder. Bardell appeared beside him, looked at me with a question in his eyes, and the pair of them stepped out into the street.
“What result?” Bardell asked.
“No visible ones.”
“You didn’t make the pinch?” Chick Orr demanded, incredulously.
“That’s right. I invited a man to ride back with me, but he said no.”
The ex-pug looked me up and down and spit on the ground at my feet.
“Ain’t you a swell mornin’-glory?” he snarled. “I got a great mind to smack you down, you shine elbow, you!”
“Go ahead,” I invited him. “I don’t mind skinning a knuckle on you.”
His little eyes brightened. Stepping in, he let an open hand go at my face. I took my face out of the way, and turned my back, taking off coat and shoulder-holster.
“Hold these, Milk River. And make the spectators behave while I take this pork-and-beaner for a romp.”
Corkscrew came running as Chick and I faced each other. We were pretty much alike in size and age, but his fat was softer than mine, I