Thar's a warrant out
for Tom, an' Jim East the sheriff puts his gun on Tom when Tom's
lookin' t'other way.
"'See yere, Harris!' says East, that a-way.
"Tom wheels, an' is lookin' into the mouth of East's six-shooter not
a yard off.
"'Put up your hands!' says East.
"But Tom don't. He looks over the gun into East's eye; an' he
freezes him. Then slow an' delib'rate, an' glarin' like a mountain
lion at East, Tom goes back after his Colt's an' pulls it. He lays
her alongside of East's with the muzzle p'intin' at East's eye. An'
thar they stands. "'You don't dar' shoot!' says Tom; an' East don't.
"They breaks away an' no powder burned; Tom stands East off.
"'Warrant or no warrant,' says Tom, 'all the sheriffs that ever
jingles a spur in the Panhandle country, can't take me! Nor all the
rangers neither!' An' they shore couldn't. "Now this yere break-away
of Tom's, when East gets the drop that time, takes courage. It ain't
one gent in a thousand who could make that trip but Tom. An' yet
this yere Tom is feared of a dark room. "Take Injuns;--give 'em
their doo, even if we ain't got room for them miscreants in our
hearts. On his lines an' at his games, a Injun is as clean strain as
they makes.
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