Texas had noticed from the beginning of Sawyer's arraignment that he was not armed. It came to him at once that this badgering was an attempt to separate him from his own gun and throw him into their hands defenseless. He stood considering it, Sawyer mistaking his silence for a shortage on courage. He renewed his insults and defiance.
"You got a name over in Cottonwood for bein' a fightin' man, ain't you? Yes, and you're a one hell of a fightin' man, ain't you? Maybe you can handle a bunch of them dudes up there, but when it comes to men with hair on their backs you're a baby. Yes, an' if I done right by you I'd take a feather piller and bat your brains out and give 'em to the cat!"
Sawyer's friends laughed. The great savage waddled a little nearer Texas, shoving his mean face forward.
"I never seen a man from Texas in my life that I couldn't run out of the country with a ellum switch. They ain't got no fight in 'em lessen they's a bunch of them together. Them's the kind of fellers that lets the dog lick the clabber off of their faces and calls it a shave—they ain't got the stren'th in 'em to raise hair on their faces like a man. Yes, and if you don't take off that dam' gun
