But they call me Hell-Bent Wade, an' I will tell you!" The straining hulk of Belllounds crouched lower, as if to gather impetus for a leap.

Both huge hands were outspread as if to ward off attack from an unseen but long-dreaded foe.

The great eyes rolled.

And underneath the terror and certainty and tragedy of his appearance seemed to surge the resistless and rising swell of a dammed-up, terrible rage.
"I'll tell you ..." went on the remorseless voice.

"I watched your Buster Jack.