If I hadn't been so surprised--if I'd had a chance to get a word in--I'd shut your trap! Are you a preacher masquerading here as hunter?
Let me tell you, I won't be talked to like that--not by any man.

Keep your advice an' friendship to yourself." "You don't want me, then ?" "No," Belllounds snapped.
"Reckon you don't need either advice or friend, hey ?" "No, you owl-eyed, soft-voiced fool!" yelled Belllounds.
It was then Wade felt a singular and familiar sensation, a cold, creeping thing, physical and elemental, that had not visited him since he had been at White Slides.
"I reckoned so," he said, with low and gloomy voice, and he knew, if Belllounds did not know, that he was not acquiescing with the other's harsh epithet, but only greeting the advent of something in himself.
Belllounds shrugged his burly shoulders and slouched away.
Wade finished his dressing of the meat.

Then he rode up to spend an hour with Moore.

When he returned to his cabin he proceeded to change his hunter garb for the best he owned.

It was a proof of his unusual preoccupation that he did this before he fed the hounds.