Pierre sure does a nice, artistic job.

He serves you a murder with all the trimmings.

If I wanted to die nice and polite without making a mess, I don't know who I'd rather go to than Red Pierre." "A murderer!" whispered Mary, with bowed head.
The boy opened his lips to speak, but changed his mind and sat regarding the girl with a somewhat sinister smile.
"But might it not be," said Mary, "that he killed one man in self-defense and then his destiny drove him, and bad luck forced him into one bad position after another?
There have been histories as strange as that, you know." Jack laughed again, but most of the music was gone from the sound, and it was simply a low, ominous purr.
"Sure," he said.

"You can take a bear-cub and keep him tame till he gets the taste of blood, but after that you got to keep him muzzled, you know.

Pierre needs a muzzle, but there ain't enough gunfighters on the range to put one on him." Something like pride crept into the boy's voice while he spoke, and he ended with a ringing tone.