Banion's hand was likewise employed at his wet saddle holster, to which he sprang, and perhaps then one man would have been killed but for Bill Jackson, who spurred between.
"Make one move an' I drop ye!" he called to Woodhull.

"Ye've give yer promise." "All right then, I'll keep it," growled Woodhull.
"Ye'd better! Now listen! Do ye see that tall cottingwood tree a half mile down--the one with the flat umbreller top, like a cypress?
Ye kin?
Well, in half a hour be thar with three o' yore friends, no more.

I'll be thar with my man an' three o' his, no more, an' I'll be one o' them three.

I allow our meanin' is to see hit fa'r.

An' I allow that what has been unfinished business ain't goin' to be unfinished come sundown.
"Does this suit ye, Will ?" "It's our promise.