KNOCK ON WOOD.

Suddenly a dead silence fell over the circle of cowpunchers. It lasted for only a few moments, however, before Varner replied, “What the hell did you say?”

Marvin answered for him. “You heard what he said, Varner. I know I heard him.” He turned to Rufus sitting close by. “Didn’t you hear what he said, Rufus?” He turned back to Varner then. “He said you better not call him Pig no more.”

“Is that so?” Varner responded. “Well, Pig might as well learn that I’ll call him anythin’ I damn well please.” He pointed his finger at Carson and demanded, “What the hell are you gonna do about it? We can settle it quick enough—fists, knives, guns, any way you want it.”

“Ah, hell,” Marvin said, “you’re twice his size. It won’t be no fair fight.”

A belligerent smile crossed Varner’s face. “Well, he don’t have to fight if he ain’t man enough to back up his mouth. But he’s gonna have to apologize to me and tell me he likes being called Pig.”

Carson realized this was going to have to be settled, and the sooner the better. “Since you’re givin’ me a choice of weapons . . . I’ll pick tree limbs.”