“‘Oh, some nonsense outside,’ says Perry.  ’It’s your move.  We just got time to play this game.’

“‘I’ll just take a peep through the window,’ says I, ’and see.  You can’t expect a mere mortal to stand the excitement of having a king jumped and listen to an unidentified conflict going on at the same time.’

“The Gray Mule saloon was one of them old Spanish ’dobe buildings, and the back room only had two little windows a foot wide, with iron bars in ’em.  I looked out one, and I see the cause of the rucus.

“There was the Trimble gang—­ten of ’em—­the worst outfit of desperadoes and horse-thieves in Texas, coming up the street shooting right and left.  They was coming right straight for the Gray Mule.  Then they got past the range of my sight, but we heard ’em ride up to the front door, and then they socked the place full of lead.  We heard the big looking-glass behind the bar knocked all to pieces and the bottles crashing.  We could see Gotch-eared Mike in his apron running across the plaza like a coyote, with the bullets puffing up dust all around him.  Then the gang went to work in the saloon, drinking what they wanted and smashing what they didn’t.

“Me and Petty both knew that gang, and they knew us.  The year before Perry married, him and me was in the same ranger company—­and we fought that outfit down on the San Miguel, and brought back Ben Trimble and two others for murder.

“‘We can’t get out,’ says I.  ’We’ll have to stay in here till they leave.’

“Perry looked at his watch.

“‘Twenty-five to seven,’ says he.  ’We can finish that game.  I got two men on you.  It’s your move, Buck.  I got to be home at seven, you know.’

“We sat down and went on playing.  The Trimble gang had a roughhouse for sure.  They were getting good and drunk.  They’d drink a while and holler a while, and then they’d shoot up a few bottles and glasses.  Two or three times they came and tried to open our door.  Then there was some more shooting outside, and I looked out the window again.  Ham Gossett, the town marshal, had a posse in the houses and stores across the street, and was trying to bag a Trimble or two through the windows.

“I lost that game of checkers.  I’m free in saying that I lost three kings that I might have saved if I had been corralled in a more peaceful pasture.  But that drivelling married man sat there and cackled when he won a man like an unintelligent hen picking up a grain of corn.

“When the game was over Perry gets up and looks at his watch.

“‘I’ve had a glorious time, Buck,’ says he, ’but I’ll have to be going now.  It’s a quarter to seven, and I got to be home by seven, you know.’

“I thought he was joking.

“‘They’ll clear out or be dead drunk in half an hour or an hour,’ says I.  ’You ain’t that tired of being married that you want to commit any more sudden suicide, are you?’ says I, giving him the laugh.