"I was standing by looking at a large-sized fracas one day and me doing nothing--just as peaceful as an old plough-hoss--when a gent ups and drills me in the leg.

His bullet had to cut through my holster and then it jammed into my thigh bone.

Put me in bed for a couple of months and when I got out I had the slug fixed up for a fob.

Just so's I could remember the man that shot me.

That's about five years back.