Two accidents wouldn't necessarily brand him for life, but if he traveled much farther with a gun outfit like the Suggses, he couldn't expect a peaceful old age--or any old age, probably. In the country, if he got mad and shot something, it would probably be a snake, not a rude bartender. July was outside, well out of hearing. He didn't try to seek shelter, for there was none.
We might all get killed by Indians in the next week or two. Not long after leaving the Powder, they crossed Crazy Woman Creek. He looked at Gus for a long time, trying to think of some argument he might use, but Gus was Gus, and he knew no argument would be of any use. Clara soon came down, a baby in her arms.
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