The Man With Nerve

: THE TWO GUN MAN
: Arizona Nights

At about ten o'clock of the Fourth of July a rider topped the summit of

the last swell of land, and loped his animal down into the single

street of Pereza. The buildings on either side were flat-roofed and

coated with plaster. Over the sidewalks extended wooden awnings,

beneath which opened very wide doors into the coolness of saloons.

Each of these places ran a bar, and also games of roulette, faro,

craps, and stud oker. Even this early in the morning every game was

patronised.



The day was already hot with the dry, breathless, but exhilarating,

heat of the desert. A throng of men idling at the edge of the

sidewalks, jostling up and down their centre, or eddying into the

places of amusement, acknowledged the power of summer by loosening

their collars, carrying their coats on their arms. They were as yet

busily engaged in recognising acquaintances. Later they would drink

freely and gamble, and perhaps fight. Toward all but those whom they

recognised they preserved an attitude of potential suspicion, for here

were gathered the "bad men" of the border countries. A certain

jealousy or touchy egotism lest the other man be considered quicker on

the trigger, bolder, more aggressive than himself, kept each strung to

tension. An occasional shot attracted little notice. Men in the

cow-countries shoot as casually as we strike matches, and some subtle

instinct told them that the reports were harmless.



As the rider entered the one street, however, a more definite cause of

excitement drew the loose population toward the centre of the road.

Immediately their mass blotted out what had interested them. Curiosity

attracted the saunterers; then in turn the frequenters of the bars and

gambling games. In a very few moments the barkeepers, gamblers, and

look-out men, held aloof only by the necessities of their calling,

alone of all the population of Pereza were not included in the

newly-formed ring.



The stranger pushed his horse resolutely to the outer edge of the crowd

where, from his point of vantage, he could easily overlook their heads.

He was a quiet-appearing young fellow, rather neatly dressed in the

border costume, rode a "centre fire," or single-cinch, saddle, and wore

no chaps. He was what is known as a "two-gun man": that is to say, he

wore a heavy Colt's revolver on either hip. The fact that the lower

ends of his holsters were tied down, in order to facilitate the easy

withdrawal of the revolvers, seemed to indicate that he expected to use

them. He had furthermore a quiet grey eye, with the glint of steel

that bore out the inference of the tied holsters.



The newcomer dropped his reins on his pony's neck, eased himself to an

attitude of attention, and looked down gravely on what was taking

place. He saw over the heads of the bystanders a tall, muscular,

wild-eyed man, hatless, his hair rumpled into staring confusion, his

right sleeve rolled to his shoulder, a wicked-looking nine-inch knife

in his hand, and a red bandana handkerchief hanging by one corner from

his teeth.



"What's biting the locoed stranger?" the young man inquired of his

neighbour.



The other frowned at him darkly.



"Dare's anyone to take the other end of that handkerchief in his teeth,

and fight it out without letting go."



"Nice joyful proposition," commented the young man.



He settled himself to closer attention. The wild-eyed man was talking

rapidly. What he said cannot be printed here. Mainly was it

derogatory of the southern countries. Shortly it became boastful of

the northern, and then of the man who uttered it.



He swaggered up and down, becoming always the more insolent as his

challenge remained untaken.



"Why don't you take him up?" inquired the young man, after a moment.



"Not me!" negatived the other vigorously. "I'll go yore little old

gunfight to a finish, but I don't want any cold steel in mine. Ugh! it

gives me the shivers. It's a reg'lar Mexican trick! With a gun it's

down and out, but this knife work is too slow and searchin'."



The newcomer said nothing, but fixed his eye again on the raging man

with the knife.



"Don't you reckon he's bluffing?" he inquired.



"Not any!" denied the other with emphasis. "He's jest drunk enough to

be crazy mad."



The newcomer shrugged his shoulders and cast his glance searchingly

over the fringe of the crowd. It rested on a Mexican.



"Hi, Tony! come here," he called.



The Mexican approached, flashing his white teeth.



"Here," said the stranger, "lend me your knife a minute."



The Mexican, anticipating sport of his own peculiar kind, obeyed with

alacrity.



"You fellows make me tired," observed the stranger, dismounting. "He's

got the whole townful of you bluffed to a standstill. Damn if I don't

try his little game."



He hung his coat on his saddle, shouldered his way through the press,

which parted for him readily, and picked up the other corner of the

handkerchief.



"Now, you mangy son of a gun," said he.