CHAPTER XXVII
THE SIXTH MAN
It caused a quick turning of heads.
“I don't want to put you out none,” said the applicant gently. His voice was extremely gentle, and there was about him all the shrinking aloofness of the naturally timid. The deputy looked him over with quiet amusement—slender fellow with the gentlest brown eyes—and then with a quick side glance invited the crowd to get in on the joke.
“You ain't puttin' me out,” he assured the other. “Not if you pay for your own ammunition.”
“Oh, yes,” answered the would-be man-hunter, “I reckon I could afford that.”
He was so serious about it that the crowd murmured its amusement instead of bursting into loud laughter. If the man was a fool, at least he was not aggressive in his folly. They gave way and he walked slowly towards the counter and stepped into the little open space beside the master of ceremonies. Very obviously he was ill at ease to find himself the center of so much attention.
“I s'pose you been practicin' up on tin-cans?” suggested the deputy, leaning on the counter.
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