CHAPTER XXIII.
THE COMEDY SETTING "Dead, you mean," broke in Nash, "because otherwise he'll never be helpless." "I tell you, Nash," said the other solemnly, "I can make him helpless with one minute of talk.

My problem is to keep that wild devil harmless while he listens to me talk.

Another thing--if he ever sees me, nothing _but_ death will stop him from coming at my throat." "Speakin' personal," said the other coldly, "I never take no chances on fellers that might come at my throat." "I know; you're for the quick draw and the quick finish.

But I'd rather die myself than have a hair of his head hurt.

I mean that!" Nash, his thoughts spinning, stood staring blankly.
"I give up tryin' to figure it out; but if he's comin' here and you want to keep him safe I'd better take a fresh hoss and get twenty miles away before night." "You'll do nothing of the kind; you'll stay here with me." "And face him without a gun ?" asked the other incredulously.
"Leave gun talk out of this.