"A gun fighter goes by instinct.

This trick will work." "But suppose that front door of Greaves's store is barred," protested Blaisdell.
"It hasn't got any bar," said Blue.
"Y'u're shore ?" "Yes, I reckon," replied Blue.
"Hell, man! Aren't y'u takin' a terrible chance ?" queried Blaisdell.
Blue's answer to that was a look that brought the blood to Blaisdell's face.

Only then did the rancher really comprehend how the little gunman had taken such desperate chances before, and meant to take them now, not with any hope or assurance of escaping with his life, but to live up to his peculiar code of honor.
"Blaisdell, did y'u ever heah of me in Texas ?" he queried, dryly.
"Wal, no, Blue, I cain't swear I did," replied the rancher, apologetically.

"An' Isbel was always sort of' mysterious aboot his acquaintance with you." "My name's not Blue." "Ahuh! Wal, what is it, then--if I'm safe to ask ?" returned Blaisdell, gruffly.
"It's King Fisher," replied Blue.
The shock that stiffened Blaisdell must have been communicated to the others.

Jean certainly felt amaze, and some other emotion not fully realized, when he found himself face to face with one of the most notorious characters ever known in Texas--an outlaw long supposed to be dead.
"Men, I reckon I'd kept my secret if I'd any idee of comin' out of this Isbel-Jorth war alive," said Blue.