"I reached out to get my glass as soon as he had his’n an’ I laid th’ gun on my knee, knowin’ he did n’t have no weapon, an’ that I could get th’ drop before he could swing a bottle or chair. But I knowed wrong. He was a liar. As I touched my glass his hand streaks for his hip pocket. I gave him th’ liquor in his eyes an’ lunged for his gun hand just in time. Then I lets loose all th’ rage that was boilin’ in me an’ when I gets tired of punishin’ him, I throws him at th’ feet of th’ woman, picks up both guns, gets what personal duffle I need, an’ blows th’ ranch. His face was even all over, his nose was busted, his teeth stuck in his lips, an’ he had a broken gun-wrist that gave somebody a whole lot of trouble before it worked right again, if it ever did. I ’m glad I did n’t shoot him—there was a lot more of satisfaction doin’ it with my naked hands. It was man to man an’ I played with him, with all his extra twenty pounds. By G—d, I can feel it yet!" During the short pause Hopalong looked steadily ahead with unseeing eyes, his face hard, his eyes narrowed, and a tightness about his lips that told plainly what he felt. To come home to that! He realized that his companion was speaking again and gave close attention. "I don’t know where I put in th’ next week, but when I got rational I found myself in a cell in a Philadelphia jail, along with bums and crooks. I found that I ’d beat up a couple of policemen when I was drunk. When I got ready to leave th’ town I didn’t have a whole lot of money, so I played cards with what I had an’ left th’ town as soon as I had my fare—which did n’t take long. That bunch never went up agin’ such a well trained deck in their lives." This time Hopalong broke the silence that ensued, his hand dropping unconsciously on his friend’s arm in warm, impulsive sympathy. "By G—d, what a deal! It’s awful, Tex; awful!" "Yes, it was—an’ it ain’t exactly what you ’d call a joke right now. But I ain’t worryin’ none about th’ woman—she killed my love stone cold that night. But when I think of how things _might_ ’a’ turned out if she ’d been square, of th’ home I ’d ’a’ had—but h—l, what’s th’ use, anyhow? Now what hurts me most is my pride an’ conceit—an’ th’ way I turned to th’ drink an’ cheatin’ so easy. It makes me mad clean through to think of what a infant I was, how I played th’ fool for th’ Lord knows how long; an’ sometimes I want to kill somebody to sort of get square with myself. Up north I ’ll be too busy tryin’ to make fools out of other people to do much in th’ line of sympathizin’ with myself—an’ too busy an’ cautious to break back to drink an’ cards. That was one of th’ things drove me back here—there ’s a whole lot more temptation facin’ a man back East, an’ ’specially a feller that’s totin’ a big load of trouble." "Don’t it beat all how different luck will run for different people?" marvelled Hopalong, thinking of his portion.