"Retire!" Amos laughs brightly. "I'm thirty-two anyway. All this fighting business is better left to the young and stupid. And the expendable. My knees are getting cranky."

No sword for Amos: he fights with knives and fists and his reputation...and a nicely-sighted gun. But here he has no reputation, no fear of the boss's wrath to carry with him, and ammo for his gun is very limited. Smarts it is...and a bow and arrow.