Leastwise, unless he wants to go in for bad-man methods and do a little ambusheein' on his own account.
The point is, that these yere bad men are a low-down, miserable proposition, and plain, cold-blood murderers, willin' to wait for a sure thing, and without no compunctions whatsoever.

The bad man takes you unawares, when you're sleepin', or talkin', or drinkin', or lookin' to see what for a day it's goin' to be, anyway.

He don't give you no show, and sooner or later he's goin' to get you in the safest and easiest way for himself.

There ain't no romance about that.
And, until you've seen a few men called out of their shacks for a friendly conversation, and shot when they happen to look away; or asked for a drink of water, and killed when they stoop to the spring; or potted from behind as they go into a room, it's pretty hard to believe that any man can be so plumb lackin' in fair play or pity or just natural humanity.
As you boys know, I come in from Texas to Buck Johnson's about ten year back.

I had a pretty good mount of ponies that I knew, and I hated to let them go at prices they were offerin' then, so I made up my mind to ride across and bring them in with me.