“Have yuh got a file or a rasp?” asked Irish. “I can’t cut wood with a blade like that.” “Yuh mean--yuh ain’t scared they’ll shoot some more?” “That feller was pullin’ out awful fast,” replied Irish. “Yuh don’t suppose they work in relays, do yuh?” “I’ll find yuh a file,” said Tucson, “but I think yuh’re crazy to stand out there like a target. They won’t miss all the time.” VI About midafternoon Johnny McCune came back to the ranch and listened to Tucson’s version of what happened. Tucson even showed Johnny the ax-head with the bullet-splatter still on it. “Pretty fair shootin’, but yuh can’t beat the luck of the Irish,” observed Johnny. “And,” added Tucson, “that other bullet smashed the winder and sunk Washin’ton’s boat, crossin’ the Delaware. Caught her dead-center on the wall.” “Well, that old pitcher was gettin’ pretty greasy, anyway. Been up there for twenty years and that boat never moved an inch.” “How was the funeral?” asked Tucson. “Big crowd?” “Everybody in the country, except you two. It was jist like goin’ to a funeral for somebody yuh never knew. The preacher said so many nice things about Al Briggs that I had my doubts about him bein’ in that casket, until I got me a look. Women all cried.” “How’d Ed Shearer stand it?” asked Tucson soberly. “Well, I thought he was goin’ to break down a couple times, but I reckon it was just a tight boot. I seen him limpin’ a little.” “Who wasn’t there?” asked Irish. “You two, Irish.” “And one more, Johnny--the drygulcher, yuh remember.” “Oh, yeah!” “Slim Duarte?” queried Tucson. “Slim was a pallbearer. The whole gang from the Turquoise was there, even the girls.” “That’s why Johnny didn’t know who was missin’,” said Tucson. “Johnny’s a ladies’ man, don’t yuh know it, Irish?” “I never look at a woman twice!” snorted Johnny McCune. “Yuh can’t. The first look is so long that she’s out of sight, before yuh can look the second time. I suppose Jim Corwin was as prom’nent as a wart on a nose.” “Well, I seen him pattin’ Nell on the shoulder. She’s a widder now, and I’ll betcha there’s plenty single men who would like to run that store. Jim Corwin is twicet her age, but I’ll betcha he’ll start shavin’ every couple days and greasin’ his boots. Not to mention Slim Duarte.” Irish smiled slowly, and Johnny said: “Not to mention Irish Delaney, too.” “No, I’m afraid I’m too far out of the runnin’, Johnny. Anyway, I’d be an awful risk for a woman. I didn’t know that Corwin and Duarte had connubial aspirations.” “Whoo-ee-e-e-e!” yelped Tucson. “You better git him a e-metic, Johnny. He’s done swallered a dictionary!” “If what you said means they’d like to have her--y’betcha,” said Johnny. “Pretty women are scarce around here.” “Handsome men ain’t no drug on the market,” declared Tucson. “You take Johnny, f’r instance, he’s average.” Johnny sighed and took off his tight boots. “I dunno what’s to be done,” he said. “It beats me.” “You mean--about yore looks?” queried Tucson.