Oh, they ain't any doubt about it.

All Reeve has got is a cock-and-bull yarn that would make a fool laugh!" Although Bull had been many times assured by his uncle and his cousins that he was a fool of the first magnitude, he was in no mood for laughter.

Somewhere in the tale there was something wrong, for his mind refused to conjure up the picture of Reeve pulling his gun and shooting across the table into the breast of a helpless, unwarned man.
That would not be the method of a man who could stand up to Uncle Bill.

That would not be the method of the man who had sat up on his bunk and looked so calmly into the face of the sheriff.
Bull stood up and dragged his hat firmly over his eyes.

"I'd kind of like to see the place where that shooting was done," he declared.
"You got lots of time before night," said the proprietor.