"They call me Hell-Bent Wade!" "Are you friends with Moore ?" asked Belllounds, beginning to shake.
"Yes, I'm that with every one.

I'd like to be friends with you." "I don't want you.

And I'm giving you notice--you won't last long at White Slides." "Neither will you!" Belllounds turned dead white, not apparently from fury or fear, but from a shock that had its birth within the deep, mysterious, emotional reachings of his mind.

He was utterly astounded, as if confronting a vague, terrible premonition of the future.

Wade's swift words, like the ring of bells, had not been menacing, but prophetic.
"Young fellar, you need to be talked to, so if you've got any sense at all it'll get a wedge in your brain," went on Wade.