“Little whiskey,” replied Fisher, uneasily, worrying because he could not stand for a return treat.  “But, say; you keep yore eye on that animal, just the same,” he added, and then hurriedly gave his reasons.  “An’ the worst part of the whole thing is that I ain’t got no gun, an’ can’t seem to borrow none, neither,” he added, wistfully eyeing the stranger’s Colt.  “I gambled mine away to the bartender here an’ he won’t lemme borrow it for five minutes!”

“Why, I never heard tell of such a thing before!” exclaimed the stranger, hardly believing his ears, and aghast at the thought that such conditions could exist.  “Friend,” he said, addressing the bartender, “how is it that this sort of thing can go on in this town?” When the bartender had explained at some length, his interested listener smote the bar with a heavy fist and voiced his outraged feelings.  “I’ll shore be plumb happy to spread that coyote marshal all over his cussed pound!  Say, come with me; I’m going down there right now an’ get that cayuse, an’ if the marshal opens his mouth to peep I’ll get him, too.  I’m itching for a chance to tunnel a man like him.  Come on an’ see the show!”

“Not much!” retorted Fisher.  “While I am some pleased to meet a white man, an’ have a deep an’ abiding gratitude for yore noble offer, I can’t let you do it.  He put it over on me, an’ I’m the one that’s got to shoot him up.  He’s mine, my pudding; an’ I’m hogging him all to myself.  That is one luxury I can indulge in even if I am broke; an’ I’m sorry, but I can’t give you cards.  Seeing, however, as you are so friendly to the cause of liberty an’ justice, suppose you lend me yore gun for about three minutes by the watch.  From what I’ve been told about this town such an act will win for you the eternal love an’ gratitude of a down-trodden people; yore gun will blaze the way to liberty an’ light, freedom an’ the right to own yore own property, an’ keep it.  All I ask is that I be the undeserving medium.”

“A-men,” sighed the bartender.  “Deacon Jones will now pass down the aisle an’ collect the buttons an’ tin money.”

“Stranger,” continued Fisher, warming up, when he saw that his words had not produced the desired result, “King James the Twelfth, on the memorable an’ blood-soaked field of Trafalgar, gave men their rights.  On that great day he signed the Magnet Charter, and proved himself as great a liberator as the sainted Lincoln.  You, on this most auspicious occasion, hold in yore strong hand the destiny of this town—­the women an’ children in this cursed community will rise up an’ bless you forever an’ pass yore name down to their ancestors as a man of deeds an’ honor!  Let us pause to consider this—­”

“Hold that pause!” interrupted the astounded bartender hurriedly, and with shaking voice.  “String it out till I get untangled!  I ain’t up much on history, so I won’t take no chance with that; but I want to tell our eloquent guest that there ain’t no women or children in this town.  An’ if there was, I sort of reckon their ancestors would be born first.  What do you think about it—­”