The Man from Bar-20
in th' little boy's class; an' I ain't meanin' no offense to you, neither."
Ackerman, hands on hips, stared at Quigley's back as he walked away. "Th' h—l you say!" he snorted wrathfully. "'Little boy's class,' huh?" He wheeled and turned a scowling face to his friend Fleming. "Did you hear that? I calls that rubbin' it in! I got a notion to take that feller's two guns away from him an' make Tom eat 'em! D—d if I don't, too; You ride to town with me an' I'll show you somethin' you won't never forget!"
It may not be out of place here to say that the time soon came when he did show Fleming something; and that Fleming never did forget it.
Mr. Quigley smiled grimly as he entered the house, for it was his opinion that Mr. Ackerman had no peer in his use and abuse of Mr. Colt's most famous invention. He hardly could ask Mr. Ackerman to sally forth and engage in a personal duel with a common enemy, for it would smack too much of asking a friend to do his fighting for him. He believed that leadership is best based when it rests upon the respect of those led. He had no doubt about the outcome of such a duel, for he implicitly believed that the stranger, despite his vaunting two guns, had as much chance against Mr. Ackerman's sleight-of-hand as an enraged rattler had against a cool and businesslike
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