"She was there, but she was n’t admirin’ _me_. I saw red, an’ th’ fact that I did n’t go loco proved that I ain’t never goin’. But th’ trigger hung on a breath an’ _he_ knowed it. He was pasty white an’ could n’t hardly stand up. Then th’ shock wore off an’ he was th’ coolest man in town.
"’What are you goin’ to do about it?’ he asks, slowly. ’Yore wife loves _me_, not you. She ’s allus loved me—you never really reckoned she was in love with _you_, did you?"
"_I_ was shocked then, only I was wearin’ my poker face an’ he could n’t see nothin’. ’Why, I did think, once in a while, that she loved me,’ I retorts. ’I certainly kept you hangin’ ’round th’ gutter an’ _sneakin’_ in, anyhow. When I get through with you they ’ll find you in that same gutter.’
"’Goin’ to shoot me? I _ought_ to have a chance. I ain’t got no gun—you see, I ain’t wild an’ woolly like you,’ an’ he actually grinned!
"’What kind of a chance did _I_ have, out of town an’ not suspectin’ any thin’?’ I asks.
"’But she _loves_ me; don’t you understand? She was _happy_ with me. What good will it do _you_ if you kill me an’ break her heart? She ’ll never look at you again.’
"’I reckon she won’t anyhow,’ I retorts. ’Leastwise not if I can help it. Look here: Don’t you know you deserve to die?’
"’That’s open to debate, but for brevity I ’ll say yes; but I want a chance. I gave _you_ a chance every time I came here—you did n’t take it, that’s all.’
"’I ’ll get you a gun, d—d if I won’t,’ I replied, an’ backed towards th’ valise where my big old Colt was. But he stops me with a sneer.
"’I said a _chance_! You was _born_ with a gun in your hand, an’ it ’d be pure murder.’
"’I ’m glad somethin ’s pure,’ says I. Then I remembered that old valise again. Remember th’ last thing I did for you an’ Peters before I quit, Hoppy?"
Hopalong thought quickly. "Yes, you an’ Pete put in two days settin’ poisoned cows in th’ brush on th’ west line. Did a good job, too. Ain’t been bothered none by wolves since."
Tex chuckled. "There was a bottle of yore stuff in that war-bag an’ it was half full. I don’t remember puttin’ it there, but there she was. So I takes it an’ holds it up for him to look at, readin’ th’ label out loud. That was th’ only time my wife says a word, an’ she says _his_ name, sorrowful; then she goes on lookin’ from him to me an’ from me to him.