A short-nosed automatic appeared in Lemuel's hand, a clashing note
against his fringed buckskins.
"Skip the talk. I know a fink when I see one."
"Just for a change, I'd like to finish a sentence," said Retief. "And I
suggest you put your courage back in your pocket before it bites you."
"You talk too damned fancy to suit me."
"Maybe. But I'm talking to suit me. Now, for the last time, put it
away."