Tex did some quick thinking. He could not afford to be linked to a tin-horn and he did not intend to make any money out of his joke. Whatever he won in this town he would win at cards, and win it alone. His second signal of refusal was backed up by his hand dropping carelessly and resting on the butt of his gun. The gambler scowled, barely nodded his acquiescence and went to the bar for a drink. Bud Haines glanced up from the weekly paper he was reading, saw nothing to hold his interest, and returned to his reading. Tex went on with his story, telling about the supper and his scene with Murphy at the station, repeating the latter word for word as nearly as he could from the time when he had detected the approach of the eavesdropper. From the constantly repeated looks of satisfaction on Williams’ face he knew that the local boss had been given a detailed account of the incident, and that he was checking it up, step by step. Briefly sketching his trouble in the saloon, Tex threw the cigarette butt at a distant box cuspidor and stretched. "An’ here I am," he finished. Williams picked up his hand, glancing absent-mindedly at the cards. "Yes," he grunted, "here you are." Putting the cards back on the table he carelessly pushed them from him, squaring the edges with zealous care. "You come near not bein’ here, though," he said, his level look steady and accusing. "Whatever made you jump on Jake that way?" he demanded coldly. "Shucks! Here it comes again!" said Tex. He looked suspicious and defiant. "I did it to stop a murder, an’ a lynchin’," he answered shortly. "Very fine!" muttered Williams. "You was a little mite overanxious--there wouldn’t ’a’ been no lynchin’ of Jake; but there might ’a’ been one, just th’ same. I had to do some real talkin’ to stop it. It ain’t wise for strangers to act sudden in a frontier town--’specially in this town. That’s somethin’ you hadn’t ought to forget, Mr. Jones." "If I get yore meanin’ plain, yo’re intendin’ me to think I was in danger of bein’ lynched?" "You shore was." "Then yo’re admittin’ that this town of Windsor will lynch a man because he keeps a murder from bein’ committed, by lickin’ th’ man who tried to do it?" "Exactly. Jake has lots of friends." "He’s plumb welcome to ’em, an’ I reckon, if he’s that kind of a man, he shore needs ’em bad. But from what I saw of Jake he ain’t that kind of a man. I’m a friend of his’n, too. I’m so much a friend of Jake’s that if he treads on my toes I’ll save him from facin’ th’ trials an’ hardships that come with old age. His existence is precarious, anyhow. He’s allus just one step ahead of poverty an’ grub stakes. Life for Jake is just one placer disappointment after another. He allus has to figger on a hard winter. Then he has to dodge sickness an’ saddles, wrestlin’ tricks, boxin’ tricks, an’ fast gunplay. But Jake is th’ kind of a man that does his own fightin’ for hisself. Yo’re plumb mistaken about him."