THE TALE OF BRAZOS DICK
minutes, nay, in ten, the bar-room was as full as if there had been a killing there an hour before.
"Tell us!" they said. "D'ye mean to say"
"Oh, I mean it!"
They appealed to me.
"You know London, Charlie. Is it a straight game Brazos is playin' with us?"
I said it was as straight as any game ever played. I took his hat and showed them. They sighed and turned again to Dick.
"Tell us, Dick."
"Yes, do," said I. "Give Dick a chance, boys. Don't smother the weary wanderer."
"Get on the table, Dick," said the bar-keep.
"Good word," cried Pillsbury. "Give Dick a chair. Boys, Mr. Dick of the Rio Brazos will lecksher on that haunt of tyrants, Britain!"
The room hummed applause. And Dick, in spite of his remonstrances, was hoisted on the table.
"We stand the leckshurer drinks," said Pillsbury. Dick drank and took a seat.
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