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 asked suddenly, turning to him with a look as challenging as her words, as if she had led him up to it with the intention of surprising the answer from him.

"Because I don't need one," he replied, not in the least surprised. "Do you think so?"

"Nobody in this town needs one more than you do."

"Why, I can agree with you on that," he laughed. "I don't believe anybody in Damascus needs one any more than I do. I consider them as archaic as swords."

"It's the most foolish thing, walking around this way without a gun. What are you going to do when you meet Gus Sandiver one of these days?"

"I don't believe I've been figuring on meeting the gentleman."

"You'll meet him, all right."

"In that case, I don't know. But I'm not going to carry a gun around in anticipation of the event. You wouldn't expect to see the Methodist preacher walking around with a gun dangling on him, would you?"

"If you don't carry it for Sandiver you ought to carry it for these bums here in town. There's a crowd here that don't like the way you treated Ross."

"I'm aware of that," he replied, so easily, so self-satisfied with his own penetration, it appeared, that she knew he would have stretched himself up that way to his toes, like a tiger flexing its cage-bound muscles, if he had been standing still.

"You take my tip," she counseled seriously, "and get a gun. Get it to-day, right now, and hang it on you. Do you hear my words?"

"And thank you for them," he assured her sincerely. "But don't feel hurt when I fail to heed them. I'm not