The Kansan recognized Pike first, and leaped at him with a snarl like that of an enraged panther, and as he leaped he struck a blinding blow.
It knocked Donald backward, but it did not fall fairly enough to inflict serious injury.

The next moment Badger was on him, and had him by the throat.
"By heavens! I've a notion to kill you right here!" he hissed, his fingers closing on Pike's throat.
"Don't!" Pike pleaded, gasping out the appeal.
"You told Fairfax Lee that I was drunk when I went on the _Crested Foam_.

You scoundrel! You ruffian! You sneaking coyote!" His fingers tightened with every exclamation.
"Don't kill me!" Pike begged wheezingly.

"I'll go to him and take it all back!" "Then you did tell him?
I allow I ought to kick you clean out of your hide, you onery varmint!" There was no answer, and Donald Pike, apparently ceasing to breathe, fell back as limp as a rag.
A bit of reason began to glimmer into the brain of the Westerner.

Though he had asserted that he would almost kill Pike, he did not really intend to do anything of the kind.