human
into a spring wagon. Then he sat up suddenly and Sam Moore and his deputies fled gibbering into the dark, while Purdy drove the team back to Wolf River. Swaggering into the dance hall, he found that the news of his demise at the hand of the pilgrim had preceded him--found, also, a marked lack of enthusiasm over his escape from death. Some countenances registered open disappointment, and the men whom he invited to drink, evinced a sudden absence of thirst. He sought to dance, but the women who occupied the chairs along the walls invented excuses, reasonable or preposterous according to the fertility of their imagination. So Purdy, a sullen rage in his heart, returned to the bar and drank alone. As he called for the third drink, the bartender eyed him truculently:
gpt
Just spread a little change, Purdy. Yer owin' fer two, now.
human
What the hell's loose with you? What's the matter with everyone here? Ain't I good fer the drinks?
gpt
You ain't good fer nothin' in Wolf River. After Tex showin' you up this afternoon but 'special what happened later. Folks knows what you tried to pull off up there on the bench. Reports was that the pilgrim had bumped you off but you don't notice no crêpe hangin' around nowheres, do you? An' when you turn up alive an' kickin' you don't notice 'em gittin' out no brass band about it, do you? An' I'm givin' you a tip--if I was you I'd right now be kickin' up a cloud of white dust a hell of a ways from Wolf River. Jest cast yer eyes around an' you'll see that there's a bunch of live ones missin'. Well, they're goin' to come driftin' back in a little, an' it's dollars to buffalo chips that when they do they'll start in an finish up the job the pilgrim botched.
human
I didn't do nothin'. They--they can't do it.
gpt
Can't do it--hell! A tree's a tree, ain't it? An' a rope's a rope?
human
Give me a drink? he begged,
gpt
To hell with you! he cried, shrilly,