“I never said anything to Wyatt Earp about you,” returned Clanton in weak denial.
“You’re a liar!” snapped Holliday with an oath. “You’ve been saying a lot of other things about me lately. Don’t deny it. I’ve got the goods on you.”
Holliday was in a cold fury. He called Clanton a drunken blatherskite, a yellow cur, a braggart, a coward. The doctor had a scurrilous and blackguard tongue when his dander was up, and he exhausted upon Clanton a full and rich vocabulary of opprobrium.
“Moreover,” said Holliday, “you’ve been making your threats to kill me. Now’s a good time to do it. We are all alone, man to man. Get out your gun and get to work.”
Out flashed the doctor’s own six-shooter.
“I’ve got no gun on me,” cried Clanton.
“Don’t tell me that, you lying whelp,” said Holliday. “You’ve got a gun. You wouldn’t have the nerve to be knocking around Tombstone at midnight without one. Go to fighting.”
“No,” responded Clanton, “I’m unarmed.”
“Then, if you are not heeled,” shot back the doctor, “go and heel yourself. And when you come back, come a-smoking.”
Morgan Earp walked into the restaurant.
“Leave him alone, Doc,” said Morgan, and he took Holliday by the arm and led him outside. Clanton followed him out on the sidewalk. There Clanton attempted vain explanations, while Holliday, still boiling with wrath, continued to abuse him. While the heated colloquy was in progress, Wyatt and Virgil Earp walked up, and Virgil ended the argument by threatening to put both men in jail.
“Don’t shoot me in the back, Holliday,” said Clanton as he walked away.
“You heel yourself,” warned Holliday, “and stay heeled. Don’t have any excuses the next time I see you.”
Clanton found Wyatt Earp in the Oriental saloon a half-hour later.
“I wasn’t heeled when Doc Holliday was abusing me,” said Clanton. “No man can abuse me like that and get away with it. I’ve got my gun on now, and you can tell Holliday I’m going to kill him the first time I meet him.”
“You’re excited and about half drunk,” said Wyatt Earp. “I’d advise you to go to bed.”
“Don’t get the idea in your head I’m drunk,” said Clanton. “This fight talk has been going on long enough, and it’s time to fetch it to a close.”
“I’ll fight nobody unless I have to,” replied Wyatt Earp. “There’s no money in fighting.”
For a little longer, Clanton talked war and Wyatt Earp peace. Then Clanton went away. He returned in a little while and ordered a drink at the bar. He evidently had been nursing his resentment.
“You fellows had the best of me tonight,” he said. “You were four to one. But I’ll be fixed for you tomorrow. I’ll have my friends here then, and we’ll fight it out, man to man.”
He paused as he passed out the door.
“I’ll be after you fellows tomorrow,” he flung back. “Don’t forget it. I’ll be ready for all of you then.”
Wyatt Earp went home to bed, his customary calm in no way ruffled by the night’s excitement, and suspecting that Clanton’s belligerent talk was mere drunken bluster which would be forgotten next day. Ned Boyle, bartender at the Oriental, awoke him at noon.
“Ike Clanton’s on a drunk,” said Boyle. “He was flourishing his six-shooter in the saloon this morning. ‘As soon as the Earps show up,’ he said, ‘the ball is going to open. I’ll have my people with me, and we’ll make a fight.’ ”
While Wyatt Earp was dressing, Harry Jones rushed in.
“What does all this mean, Wyatt?” he asked breathlessly.
“What does what mean?”
“Ike Clanton is on the warpath. He is armed with a Winchester and a six-shooter and is looking all over town for you Earp boys and Doc Holliday. He is threatening to kill the first man among you who appears on the street.”
“Tut-tut,” said Wyatt Earp. “I guess I’ll have to look up Ike Clanton and see what’s the matter with him.”
Marshal Virgil Earp remained on duty all night and went to bed at sunrise. He had been asleep only a few hours when his brother Warren aroused him to inform him that Ike Clanton was hunting him to kill him.
“Don’t bother me,” said Virgil Earp, and he turned over and went to sleep again.
Morgan Earp again awoke him.
“Ike Clanton is threatening to make a clean sweep of the Earps and Doc Holliday,” said Morgan. “Billy Clanton and Tom and Frank McLowery have arrived in town, all heavily armed. Better get up.”
Morgan Earp met Doc Holliday in the Alhambra. The doctor had finished a late breakfast and was lounging immaculately at the bar.
“Ike Clanton’s going to kill you as soon as he finds you,” warned Morgan.
“So I hear,” returned the doctor with polite interest.
In addition to his six-shooter, the doctor had a sawed-off shotgun strapped to his shoulder beneath his coat. The shotgun was a detail of costume reserved by the doctor for state occasions. He had put it on just after adjusting his tie before his morning mirror.
Wyatt and Virgil Earp met in the Oriental saloon.
“With Billy Clanton and the two McLowerys in town, the thing begins to look interesting,” said Wyatt Earp. “We’d better disarm Ike Clanton before he starts trouble. We’ll hunt him up. You go round the block by Fremont Street. I’ll take Allen Street.”
Virgil Earp saw Ike Clanton talking with William Stilwell on Fourth Street between Fremont and Allen.
“I hear you are looking for me,” said Virgil.
Clanton threw his rifle around threateningly. Virgil grabbed the barrel and clouted Clanton over the head with a six-shooter, knocking him down.
Wyatt and Morgan Earp came hurrying up. They disarmed Clanton and marched him to Justice Wallace’s court. Virgil Earp went to find Justice Wallace. Wyatt and Morgan Earp remained to guard the prisoner. Clanton was wild with drink and anger. His hair was matted with blood that dripped upon his shoulder.
“If I had my six-shooter,” Clanton shouted, “I’d fight all you Earps.”
Morgan Earp was standing in front of him, Clanton’s rifle in his left hand, the butt resting on the floor,
