"I didn't know he attended you," Hall said in surprise. "I never saw you in Damascus, not even the day of the raid."
"You're a funny feller," Gus said, his face a little redder than its ordinary infernal hue. "I wasn't with them fool boys when they went over to raid the court house; I'm not ridin' in lawless by-paths any more. But at the first I sent word over to Old Doc Ross I was comin' to Damascus as soon as I was able to swing a gun and take a shot at him. But tell him it's all off. I ain't out gunnin' any more."
"Take a shot at him?" said Hall, more mystified than before, staring blankly at Sandiver, who was riding along with his head bent pensively, about as hard-looking scraping of a man as the country west of Dodge could produce.
"Yeah. I passed the word along to him."
"Did you know him in Dodge?"
"I heard of him, I didn't know him. I wasn't stayin' around much in society in them days, Doc."
"If I get a chance, I'll tell him what you've said," Hall promised. "I suppose he'll understand?"
"Oh, he'll understand, all right. Tell him I said I felt I owed him a debt, in place of havin' one standin' agin him to collect. Well, both me and you owe him for that shot, I reckon, Doc."
"That shot?" Hall repeated in amazement. "What shot are you talking about, Gus?"
"What other one but that one," Gus replied, sadly, holding up his bandaged arm. "It was the only one he ever took at me."
"It's the first I've heard of it," Hall declared.
