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. ''Cause I'm a-goin' to bore you, an' I

never kill a man till he goes fer his gun.'

"To thet I replies, more considerate: 'But it ain't fair. You'd

better get the fust shot.'

"Then the fool hollers, 'Redhead!'

"Thet settled him. I leaps over QUICK, slugged him one--lefthanded.

He staggered, but he didn't fall.... Then he straightens an' goes

fer his gun."

Larry halted again. He looked as if he had been insulted, and a

bitter irony sat upon his lips.

"I seen, when he dropped, thet he never got his hand to his gun at

all.... Jest as I'd reckoned.... Wal, what made me sick was that my

bullet went through him an' then some of them thin walls--an' hit a

girl in another house. She's bad hurt.... They ought to have walls

thet'd stop a bullet."