You say one fella prayer damn quick, then me kill you." Sheldon held the rifle on him and waited.

The black glanced around at his fellows, but none moved to aid him.

They were intent upon the coming spectacle, staring fascinated at the white man with death in his hands who stood alone on the great veranda.

Sheldon has won, and he knew it.
Astoa changed his weight irresolutely from one foot to the other.

He looked at the white man, and saw his eyes gleaming level along the sights.
"Astoa," Sheldon said, seizing the psychological moment, "I count three fella time.