His big, prominent eyes held a dark and ugly look.

His lower jaw wabbled as he panted for breath and speech at once.
"Moore--I'll kill--you!" he hissed, with glance flying everywhere for a weapon.

From ground to cowboys he looked.

Bludsoe was the only one packing a gun.

Belllounds saw it, and he was so swift in bounding forward that he got a hand on it before Bludsoe could prevent.
"Let go! Give me--that gun! By God! I'll fix him!" yelled Belllounds, as Bludsoe grappled with him.
There was a sharp struggle.