h to the regret of the boys, who always apologised
handsomely to the surviving relatives, which expression of regret was
generally received in the amicable spirit with which it was tendered.
There was none of the rancour of the vendetta in these little
encounters; if a man happened to be blotted out, it was his ill luck,
that was all, and there was rarely any thought of reprisal.

This perhaps was largely due to the fact that the community was a
shifting one, and few had any near relatives about them, for, although
the victim might have friends, they seldom held him in such esteem as
to be willing to take up his quarrel when there was a bullet hole
through him. Relatives, however, are often more difficult to deal with
than are friends, in cases of sudden death, and this fact was
recognised by Hickory Sam, who, when he was compelled to shoot the
younger Holt brother in Mike's saloon, promptly went, at some personal
inconvenience, and assassinated the elder, before John Holt heard the
news. As Sam explained to Mike when he returned, he had no quarrel with
John Holt, but merely killed him in the interests of peace, for he
would have been certain to draw and probably shoot several citizens
when he heard of his brother's death, because, for some unexplained
reason, the brothers were fond of each other.

When Hickory Sam was comparatively new to Salt Lick he allowed the
Buller's ranch gang to close up the town without opposition. It was
their custom, when the capital of Coyote county had been closed up to
their satisfaction, to adjourn to Hades and there "blow in" their hard-
earned gains on the liquor Mike furnished. They also added to the
decorations of the saloon ceiling. Several cowboys had a gift of
twirling their Winchester repeating rifles around the fore finger and
firing it as the flying muzzle momentarily pointed upwards. The man who
could put the most bullets within the smallest space in the roof was
the expert of the occasion, and didn't have to pay for his drinks.

This exhibition might have made many a man quail, but it had no effect
on Hickory Sam, who leant against the bar and sneered at the show as
child's play.

"Perhaps you think you can do it," cried the champion. "I bet you the
drinks you can't."

"I don't have to," said Hickory Sam, with the calm dignity of a dead
shot. "I don't have to, but I'll tell you what I can do. I can nip the
heart of a man with this here gun" showing his seven-shooter, "me