No later 'n this mornin' I seen him saunterin' down the lane, quiet an' slow.

An' like his guns he comes black--black, thet's Lassiter.

Wal, the crowd on the corner never batted an eye, en' I'll gamble my hoss thet there wasn't one who hed a heartbeat till Lassiter got by.

He went in Snell's saloon, an' as there wasn't no gun play I had to go in, too.

An' there, darn my pictures, if Lassiter wasn't standin' to the bar, drinking en' talkin' with Oldrin'." "Oldring!" whispered Venters.