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It's fight, you " "Oh, all right! You are so emphatic," Jack answered. His voice was still pleasant, but shot with something metallic. The very shadow of him seemed to stiffen with the stiffening of his muscles. "Ready!" called Bill Lang. The ruling passion that had carved six notches on his gun-handle overwhelmed Pete Leddy.
"He has six notches on his gun-handle six men that he has killed!" Mary went on. "Whew!" said Jack. "And he isn't more than thirty! He seems a hard worker who keeps right on the job." She pressed her lips together to control her amusement, before she asked categorically, with the precision of a school-mistress: "Do you know how to shoot?" He was surprised.
If this is another Humpy Joe affair I'm a-goin' to put one more notch in my gun-handle, and it looks like a cub bear had chawed it already." "There ain't but one thing to do," Stover announced, firmly. "We've got to put it up to Mr. Glass and learn the truth." "You'll find him in the bunk-house," directed Fresno. "I think I'll trail along and hear what he has to say."
And he's got a cash- register to tally his dead." "Notches on his gun-handle, I suppose?" "So many that it looks like his wife had used it to hang pictures with. I tell you, he's the most deceitful rummy I ever seen. What's more, he's got the homicide habit, and the habit has got its eye on me."
Free from that smile and the glint of the eyes, Pete came to in a torrent of reaction. He, with six notches on his gun-handle, had been trifled with by a grinning tenderfoot. Rage mounted red to his brow. No man who had humiliated him should live.
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