"Dan, I been thinking about something and now I'm ready to tell you what it is." Barry looked up in slow surprise.
Now the face of Buck Daniels held what men have called a "deadly pallor," that pallor which comes over one who is cornered and about to fight for his life.

He leaned closer, resting one hand upon the edge of the table, so that his face was close to Dan Barry.
"Barry," he said, "I'm askin' you for the last time: Will you get your hoss and ride back to Kate Cumberland with me ?" Dan Barry smiled his gentle, apologetic smile.
"I don't no ways see how I can, Buck." "Then," said Buck through his teeth, "of all the lyin' hounds in the world you're the lyin'est and meanest and lowest.

Which they ain't words to tell you what I think of you.

Take this instead!" And the hand which rested on the table darted up and smote Dan Barry on the cheek, a tingling blow.

With the same motion which started his hand for the blow, Buck Daniels turned on his heel and stepped a pace or two towards the centre of the room.
There was not a man in the room who had not heard the last words of Buck Daniels, and not a man who had not seen the blow.