"Me and Petty both knew that gang, and they knew us.The year before Perry married, him and me was in the same ranger company--and we fought that outfit down on the San Miguel, and brought back Ben Trimble and two others for murder.
"'We can't get out,' says I.'We'll have to stay in here till they leave.'
"Perry looked at his watch.
"'Twenty-five to seven,' says he.'We can finish that game.I got two men on you.It's your move, Buck.I got to be home at seven, you know.'
"We sat down and went on playing.The Trimble gang had a roughhouse for sure.They were getting good and drunk.They'd drink a while and holler a while, and then they'd shoot up a few bottles and glasses.
Two or three times they came and tried to open our door.Then there was some more shooting outside, and I looked out the window again.Ham Gossett, the town marshal, had a posse in the houses and stores across the street, and was trying to bag a Trimble or two through the windows.
"I lost that game of checkers.I'm free in saying that I lost three kings that I might have saved if I had been corralled in a more peaceful pasture.But that drivelling married man sat there and cackled when he won a man like an unintelligent hen picking up a grain of corn.
"When the game was over Perry gets up and looks at his watch.
"'I've had a glorious time, Buck,' says he, 'but I'll have to be going now.It's a quarter to seven, and I got to be home by seven, you know.'
"I thought he was joking.
"'They'll clear out or be dead drunk in half an hour or an hour,' says I.'You ain't that tired of being married that you want to commit any more sudden suicide, are you?' says I, giving him the laugh.
"'One time,' says Perry, 'I was half an hour late getting home.I met Mariana on the street looking for me.If you could have seen her, Buck --but you don't understand.She knows what a wild kind of a snoozer I've been, and she's afraid something will happen.I'll never be late getting home again.I'll say good-bye to you now, Buck.'
"I got between him and the door.
"'Married man,' says I, 'I know you was christened a fool the minute the preacher tangled you up, but don't you never sometimes think one little think on a human basis? There's ten of that gang in there, and they're pizen with whisky and desire for murder.They'll drink you up like a bottle of booze before you get half-way to the door.Be intelligent, now, and use at least wild-hog sense.Sit down and wait till we have some chance to get out without being carried in baskets.'
"'I got to be home by seven, Buck,' repeats this hen-pecked thing of little wisdom, like an unthinking poll parrot.'Mariana,' says he, 'will be out looking for me.' And he reaches down and pulls a leg out of the checker table.'I'll go through this Trimble outfit,' says he, 'like a cottontail through a brush corral.I'm not pestered any more with a desire to engage in rucuses, but I got to be home by seven.You lock the door after me, Buck.And don't you forget--I won three out of them five games.I'd play longer, but Mariana--'
