The captain warned us ‘bout you, Mr. Singh.

Mr. Singh appeared next to Francis on the rooftop of the livery stable, the highest building in Canyon Diablo. They picked their targets carefully, dropping man after man.

“How you doin’, Mr. Singh?” Francis smiled at the Sikh and saw the Indian had blood on his clothes. “How many’d ya get?”

“Two, Francis.” He fired his Winchester and put a bullet through a bad man’s eye. “Now three.”

“I’ll be go to hell. The captain warned us ‘bout you, Mr. Singh. Said you could cut our throats before we cleared leather.” Mr. Singh gave a just discernible smile. He did not like to be proud, or bragged about, but could not help feeling a little pleased. Allingham.