"I don't know who that Fannie Goodnight is, but she's got a rope on Johnnie Mackey's leg. Yes, and I'll bet four bits she can flop him quicker'n she did that shadder of a steer any time she wants to. That white-eyed son-of-a-gun's a-scairt of her; he wilted like a frosted turnip when she dressed him down."
"He did seem to act like he'd taken orders from her before. Well, sir, do you reckon I'll be taken up for what I had to do?"
"They can't take a man up in Cottonwood for defendin' his life," said Uncle Boley, a sort of triumphant pride in the immunities of his town. "The thing's settled as fur as any lawin's goin' to come in. I reckon a hundred people could be called up that saw them fellers crowd that fight on you."
"I hope they could," sighed Texas.
"I was standin' right there in that door when that feller made that pass to sling his gun down on you."
Uncle Boley chuckled at the recollection.
"You moved so dang swift I couldn't tell how you done it, but I can swear till the cows come home that he made the first break toward a gun."
"I'm glad to hear you say it, sir. That young lady remarked that she saw it, too. Two reliable
