"It'd be a shame not to hear me talk a little....

Turn around now an' greet an old pard of the Gunnison days." Folsom turned as if a resistless, heavy force was revolving his head.
"By Gawd!...

Wade!" he ejaculated.

The tone of his voice, the light in his eyes, must have been a spiritual acceptance of a dreadful and irrefutable fact--perhaps the proximity of death.

But he was no coward.
Despite the hunter's order, given as he stood there, gun drawn and ready, Folsom wheeled back again, savagely to throw the deck of cards in Belllounds's face.