"Remember
what I say. This Lassiter is something more than a gun-man. Jud,
he's big--he's great!...I feel that in him. God help Tull and
Dyer when Lassiter does go after them. For horses and riders and
stone walls won't save them."
"Wal, hev it your way, Bern. I hope you're right. Nat'rully I've
been some sore on Lassiter fer gittin' soft. But I ain't denyin'
his nerve, or whatever's great in him thet sort of paralyzes
people. 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. His voice, as all fire and pulse
within him, seemed to freeze.
"Let go my arm!" exclaimed Judkins. "Thet's my bad arm. Sure it
was Oldrin'. What the hell's wrong with you, anyway? Venters, I
tell you somethin's wrong. You're whiter 'n a sheet. You can't be
scared of the rustler. I don't believe you've got a scare in you.
Wal, now, jest let me talk. You know I like to talk, an' if I'm
slow I allus git there sometime. As I said, Lassiter was talkie'
chummy with Oldrin'.
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