"I reckon the business that brought you here could be carried on better with no kids around." Singleton saw a pin point of fire glow in Lawler's eyes.

But he noted with venomous satisfaction that Lawler's hand did not move upward the slightest fraction of an inch toward his gun, and he laughed discordantly, taking another step toward Lawler, so that he would be close enough to strike when the time came.
"Lawler," he said, sticking his face close to the other's, his eyes glittering with the malignant triumph that had seized him over the conviction that Lawler would not try to draw his gun; "I'm figgerin' on wallopin' you like you walloped my kid.

Understand?
I'm aimin' to make you fight--with your fists.

I'm goin' to knock hell out of you!".
Lawler had not moved.

Had Singleton not been so obsessed with thoughts of an easy victory he might have noted that the pin point of fire that had glowed in Lawler's eyes had grown larger, and that his muscles had stiffened.