Since Bob has drawn me out of my seclusion, here's another rambling anecdote from the days of the Wild West.
"One spring day in 1885 the two Mooar brothers were watering their teams at the well in the street just in front of Kelly's saloon. They had with them a dog, half buffalo wolf, which they had bought from an Arapaho Indian. Tous was a big black dog, weighing ninety-six pounds, a fierce fighter. A dozen of Mayor Kelly's wolfhounds (of which he was so proud) were on the sidewalk. Somebody sickked them on Tous.
"But the wolf-dog did not scare easy. He never fought like a bulldog, grabbing and holding on, but always leapt in to snap, then sling his enemy aside. In that way he could cope with as many dogs as he could get to him at one time. Soon the pack was getting the worse of it.
"Just then Kelly came running out, six-shooter in hand, apparently to protect his hounds by killing Mooar's dog. Josiah Wright Mooar, holding the water bucket and unarmed, saw him coming. But before he could do or say anything he heard somebody behind him holler, 'Drop that gun, damn you.'
"Mooar looked around and there was Big Jack Williams kneeling on one knee with his Big 50 buffalo gun at his shoulder, drawing a bead on Kelley.
"Kelly put up his revolver, and old Tous 'cleaned them dogs up to a finish.' Mooar had not known that Williams was in town, but Big Jack was right behind him and waiting his turn to water his team...
"Guns were used to prevent gunplay."
Vigilantibus et non dormientibus jura subveniunt. Molon Labe!