everything. This is the time to play cards!
The second shout came from the throat of Big Joe — and the sound lent wings to Guest’s flying feet.
In the course of an eventful life, Elliott Guest had become a connoisseur of Western hospitality, and always knew when the limit had been reached.
So, when he glimpsed various dark shapes converging from all sides at the point where the two streets met, he was drawing on every ounce of his experience.
Suddenly, a bulky figure loomed before the fleeing gambler with outstretched arms and face a bearded blur. Even so, it wasn’t hard for Guest to recognize the casekeeper from the Black Hat Saloon, who roared;
“Hold up, you card-sharpin’, woman-stealin’, slick-fingered son of a bitch!”