Tex cogitated a moment. "No; they’re a little embarrassin’: better try gloves. I’ll find out th’ size from her brother. Nice, long white gloves for th’ weddin’--an’ mebby a nice shawl to go with ’em--Cashmere, with a long fringe. They’re better than stockin’s. You send for ’em an’ wait till they come before you go around. You shouldn’t go empty-handed on a visit like that. An’ you want th’ minister with you when you go after her--you can leave him outside till he’s needed. Folks’ll talk, an’ make trouble for you later. There’s tight rules for weddin’s; very tight rules. You don’t want nobody pokin’ their fingers at yore wife, Hennery. It’ll shore mean a killin’, some day." "I ain’t so cussed anxious to git married," growled Henry. "It’s hard to git loose ag’in--but I reckon mebby I better go through with it." "I--reckon--you--had," whispered Tex, his vision clouding for a moment. He grew strangely quiet, as though he had been mesmerized. "A man can allus light out if he gits tired of it," reflected Henry complacently. The marshal arose and paced up and down, thankful for the darkness, which hid the look of murder graven on his face. "Yes," he acquiesced; "a man--allus--can--do--that." This conversation was torturing him. Anything would be a relief, and he threw away the results of all his former talking. "What was on yore mind when you come down to see me today?" "Oh!" exclaimed his companion a little nervously. "I plumb forgot all about it. You see," he hesitated, shifting again on the chair, "well, it’s like this. Us boys admires th’ way you handled things in th’ hotel this afternoon, but somebody might ’a’ been killed. ’Tain’t fair to let a passel of Irish run this town--an’ they started th’ fight, anyhow. Th’ big Mick kicked Jordan’s gun out of his hand an’ jumped on him. Then th’ others piled in, an’ th’ show begun. We sort of been thinkin’ that th’ marshal ought to back up his town ag’in’ them foreigners. Gus is mad about it--an’ he’s bad when he gits his back up. He thinks we ought to go down to th’ railroad an’ run them Micks out of town on some sharp rails, beatin’ ’em up first so they won’t come back. Th’ boys kinda cotton to that idea. They’re gettin’ restless an’ hard to hold. I thought I’d find out what side yo’re on."