If Bokyung was honest, he didn't actually know what the warrant was for. He'd heard it bandied about a couple times, that there was a steadily growing price on his head--the last he'd heard was one hundred dollars, not bad for a chinaman. He eyed the paper, curiously but surreptitiously. He didn't think he was feeling complimented by the warrant officer's point about him taking on the saloon.

"Up to me, how?"