I'm about as hard-headed a puncher as ever straddled leather an' I've had to use my guns purty considerable, but I reckons if any decent marshal asked me to cache them in a decent way, why, I'd do it.

An' let me brand somethin' on yore mind--I've heard of Smith of Buffalo, an' he's mighty nifty with his hands.

He don't stand off an' tell yu to unload yore lead-ranch, but he ambles up close an' taps yu on yore shirt; if yu makes a gunplay he naturally knocks yu clean across th' room an' unloads yu afore yu gets yore senses back.

He weighs about a hundred an' eighty an' he's shore got sand to burn." "Yah! When I makes a gun play she plays! I'd look nice in Abilene or Paso or Albuquerque without my guns, wouldn't I?
Just because I totes them in plain sight I've got to hand 'em over to some liquor-wrastler?
I reckons not! Some hip-pocket skunk would plug me afore I could wink.

I'd shore look nice loping around a keno layout without my guns, in th' same town with some cuss huntin' me, wouldn't I?
A whole lot of good a marshal would a done Jimmy, an' didn't Harris get his from a cur in th' dark ?" shouted Hopalong, angered by the prospect.
"We're talkin' about Buffalo, where everybody has to hang up their guns," replied Buck.