"I know damn well you cowpunchers have some here, for I smelled it when I came in." "Jack, we drank the last drop," replied Jim, who seemed less stiff than his two bunk-mates.
"I've some very old rye," interposed Wade, looking at Jim, but apparently addressing all.

"Fine stuff, but awful strong an' hot!...
Makes a fellow's blood dance." "Go get it!" Belllounds's utterance was thick and full, as if he had something in his mouth.
Wade looked down into the heated face, into the burning eyes; and through the darkness of passion that brooked no interference with its fruition he saw this youth's stark and naked soul.

Wade had seen into the depths of many such abysses.
"See hyar, Wade," broke in Jim, with his quiet force, "never mind fetchin' thet red-hot rye to-night.

Some other time, mebbe, when Jack wants more satisfaction.

Reckon we've got a drop or so left." "All right, boys," replied Wade, "I'll be sayin' good night." He left them playing and strode out to return to his cabin.