Brass McChudsley once out-operated the quickest Fixer on the Island. His sneakeye piece and lowdown fedora flapping in the beadeye wind, ‘ol Chudsley came upon his back, the Fixer on the rocks holding down his hat.

He gave a choice, Chudsley did, “Gimmeyer name, friend.”

“Iknewyacomin,” Fixer said'n reach'd his coat, tippin his hat,
but Chudsley din’t let’m.

Shot a hole right through it to’s head.

Now McChuds’dabig Fixer instead.