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opted for the former alternative. Emboldened by which, he then enquired if Holliday was entirely sure what he was about.
    ‘Never tolerated a complaint in my whole life, sir,’ the practitioner boasted. ‘Now, if you’ll kindly stop your distracting cacophany, and open your goddam mouth real wide, I’ll proceed to go for your gums.’
    And he reached a trembling hand for the surgical wrench.
     
    8

An Offer Refused
    The Last Chance Saloon was really jumping by now – and with some justification. It was a nervous place at the best of times, and this wasn’t one of them. The boys had at last run out of conversation; and since none of them felt like going out to fetch some more, they were presently engaged in shooting the neck off any bottle which had offended them by being empty.
    Charlie had, in fact, mentioned that he didn’t want no trouble; but they had assured him that it weren’t no trouble at all, and continued to prove it, punctuating their explosive obbligato with those high-pitched yipping cries, which were such an attractive feature of the Old West.
    Rather like Professor Barnstorm’s Musical Dogs in rehearsal, it was.
    Speaking of music, Charlie explained to them that, if there was any kind of professional integrity round here, Kate would shortly be returning to continue her selections from the classics; and they agreed that they would look forward to that, then. But meanwhile they would continue to provide their own entertainment, if that was all right by him?
    After a quick calculation of the odds, Charlie supposed it was; and retreated to his thankless sanctum, where there was a picture of Lily Langtry he was fond of. ‘What a Jersey Lily!’ it was his habit to say; after which he would laugh. But right now, he was unable to summon so much as a snigger to his blue and mirthless lips. He wondered whether to pass the time with a little shaving, since it was a Friday; but decided against it, on the grounds that the mortician would no doubt take care of all that, in due course.
    But these valedictory musings were cut short by the unexpected tolling of the bar-bell; and he emerged once more, to find that two strangers had been fool enough to enter his premises.
    These, of course, were Steven and Dodo, who, having scoured the town – which could use it – for a Waldorf Astoria, had now decided that this must be where the action was. And they were right. Their entrance had not gone unobserved.
    ‘Why, look-ee here,’ said Ike.
    ‘Why, look-ee here,’ followed Phineas, admiring the phrase, ‘if it ain’t Calamity Jane an’ Sam Bass!’
    ‘Haw! Haw!’ said Billy, to show he could appreciate a joke, ‘well, if it jest ain’t!’
    Seth said nothing, to imply he was a loner, who always made up his own mind, when he could find it. But somehow he didn’t think they were right.
    And Charlie, who had his custom to think of, said
    ‘What’ll it be, stranger?’ – an opening gambit he had always found to be much appreciated by the casual caller.
    But not this time. It wasn’t Charlie’s day.
    ‘Nothing to drink, thank you,’ said Steven, primly, ‘but I’d like to book three rooms for the night, please...’
    Charlie counted the passing trade, cautiously. ‘For the two of you?’ he enquired.
    ‘They need one for a rumpus room, maybe?’ suggested Ike.
    ‘That’s right – for funnin’ an’ such,’ explained Phineas.
    ‘Some place they can meet real private,’ said Billy, offensively.
    ‘A friend will be joining us later,’ said Steven, anxious to dispel any prurient speculations at the outset. ‘He’s been held up.’
    ‘Who hasn’t, these days?’ asked Charlie, with a malevolent glance at his regulars. ‘Sign of the rotten times!
    Well then, I guess I’ll have to get you to affix your labels to the book here...’ And he pushed the mildewed volume towards them. ‘Jest so’s I can get in touch with the next of kin,’ he explained. ‘If need be...’
    He breathed heavily