There’s  guys ya wouldn’t think carry guns that do. Down in Yuma las’ year, these two young guys was ridin’ with me ‘n another tramp, an old timer. To look at this guy, you wouldn’t think he’d put harm to a fly. Nothin’ but skin and bone, hair’s all white, walks all bent over. An ol’ man. We’re crossin’ the desert in a boxcar, an’ these two young guys come over to where he was sittin’, an’ one of ‘em sez, “Hey ol’ man, what’cha got in that sack fer us?” Ya know, gittin’ set ta roll him. Now I don’t like gittin’ in somebody else’s fight, but this guy’s an ol’ man, an’ them two was gangin’ up on him like two dogs. So I got up from where I was sittin’, ready for some trouble, ‘n he waves his hand. “Siddown,” he sez, “I got somethin’ fer these boys right here.” An’ he reaches inta his pack, ‘n pulls out a .45. He points it at them two, “This is what I got fer ya,” he sez. “Wanna poke yer nose ‘roun’ in there ‘n see if there’s somethin’ else ya might want?”

Goddamn, he had them two punks crappin’ in their pants. Surprised the hell outta me too. I rode ‘longside him plenty a times. Never had an idea he packed a gun. Them two was beggin’, “Take it easy ‘ol man. We didn’t mean nothin’.” Scared as shit. He backed ‘em over in a corner ‘n held the gun on ‘em all ‘cross the desert. They was havin’ ta ask his permission ta git up ‘n pee. Once, we pulled over on this sidin’, ‘n he sez to ‘em, “You boys oughtta be damn thankful this here train’s ridin’ on ribbon-rail; this thing’s got a hair trigger.” Shit, them’s were two scared sons a bitches. Next division, he tells ‘em ta git the hell outta the car. Told ‘em if he seen ‘em git back on the train, he’d come back there an’ shoot ‘em sure as shit. It’s what I mean, ya’d never ‘spect a guy like ‘at ta be packin’ a gun. Goddamn, ‘at ol’ man pullin’ a gun like he did. What the hell, ya gotta protect yerself.

110.