He's the biggest thief I ever knowed. He'll lift yore animal
quick as a wink!" Fisher warned, excitedly.
The stranger looked at him in surprise and then smiled. "Is it usual for
a marshal to steal cayuses? Somewhat out of line, ain't it?" he asked
Fisher, glancing at the bartender for light.
"I don't care what's the rule--that marshal just stole my cayuse; an'
he'll take yourn, too, if you ain't careful," Fisher replied.
"Well," drawled the stranger, smiling still more, "I reckon I ain't
going to stay out there an' watch it, an' I can't bring it in here.
But I reckon it'll be all right. You see, I carry 'big medicine'
agin hoss-thieves," he replied, tapping his holster and smiling as he
remembered the time, not long past, when he himself had been accused of
being one. "I'll take a chance if he will--what'll you all have?"
"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.
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