I went to the town and gambled and won a great deal.

But before I came out I got mixed up with a man called Hurley, a professional gambler." "And Diaz ?" queried a chorus.
"Yes.

Hurley was hurt in the wrist and Diaz died.

I think I'm wanted in Morgantown." Out of a little silence came the voice of Black Gandil: "Dick, I'm thankin' you now for cuttin' me so short a minute ago." Phil Branch had not spoken, as usual, but now he repeated, with rapt, far-off eyes: "'Hurley was hurt in the wrist and Diaz died ?' Hurley and Diaz! I played with Hurley, a couple of times." "Speakin' personal," said Garry Patterson, his red verging toward purple in excitement, "which I'm ready to go with you down to Morgantown and bury your father." "And do it shipshape," added Black Gandil.
"With all the trimmings," said Bud Mansie, "with all Morgantown joinin' the mournin' voluntarily under cover of our six-guns." "Wait," said Boone.

"What's the second request ?" "That can wait." "It's a bigger job than this one ?" "Lots bigger." "And in the meantime ?" "I'm your man." They shook hands.