A smell of powder-smoke and rank whiskey was in the air.
There are times when a man's hand will act more swiftly than his tongue.

Napoleon Doret had seen the manner of the stranger's surrender of his gun, and, realizing too late what it meant, had acted.

At the very instant of the fellow's treachery, Doret struck with his bottle just in time to knock the weapon from his hand, but not in time to prevent its discharge.

The bullet was lodged in the wall a foot from where Gale stood.

As the stranger staggered back, the Frenchman vaulted the bar, but, though swift as a cat, the soldier, who had also leaped, was before him.