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Then his latter remark was significant to a class of men who from inclination and necessity practiced at gun-drawing until they wore callous and sore places on their thumbs and inculcated in the very deeps of their nervous organization a habit that made even the simplest and most innocent motion of the hand end at or near the hip. There was something remarkable about a gun-fighter's hand.
Oh, my Lord, I just got here in time!" "But I'm going to," ended Wilhelmina, and then for the first time he noticed the look in her eye. It was as cold and steely as a gun-fighter's. "Why what's the matter?" he clamored. "You ain't sore at me, are you? But even if you are, don't sign any papers until I tell you about that mine. How much ore have you got in sight?"
A fierce and reminiscent gleam smoldered in the little gun-fighter's eyes as he watched Alan during the first half-hour leg of their race through the foothills to the tundras. Alan did not observe it, or the grimness that had settled in the face behind him. His own mind was undergoing an upheaval of conjecture and wild questioning.
Only one thing kept him from standing his ground to fight it out. He remembered those dangling limp figures hanging from the cottonwoods. These ranchers would rather hang an outlaw than do anything. They might draw all his fire and then capture him. His horror of hanging was so great as to be all out of proportion compared to his gun-fighter's instinct of self-preservation.
I've done a little shooting, too, but I never wanted to kill another man just to rid myself of the last one. My dead men don't sit on my chest at night. That's the gun-fighter's trouble. He's crazy. He has to kill a new man he's driven to it to forget the last one." "But I'm no gun-fighter," protested Duane. "Circumstances made me " "No doubt," interrupted Bland, with a laugh.