I'm
givin' you a chance."
He drew out one of the weapons he had taken from the two men, holding
it by the muzzle and thrusting it under Neal's nose. The terrible,
suppressed rage in his eyes caused a shiver to run over Neal, his face
turned a dull white, his eyes stared fearfully. He made no move to
grasp the weapon.
"I ain't fightin'," he said with trembling lips.
Calumet reversed the gun and stepped back, laughing harshly, without
mirth.
"Of course you ain't fightin'," he said. "That's the reason it's goin'
to be hard for me to kill you. I'd feel like a cur if I was to
perforate you now--you or your scarecrow dad. But I'm tellin' you
this: You've sneaked around the Lazy Y for the last time. I'm layin'
for you after this, an' if I ketch you maverickin' around here again
I'll perforate you so plenty that it'll make you dizzy. That's all.
Get out of here before I change my mind!"
Shrinking from his awe-inspiring wrath, they retreated from him,
watching him fearfully as they backed toward their horses. They had
almost reached them when Calumet's voice brought them to a halt.
His lips were wreathed in a cold grin, his eyes alight with a satanic
humor. But the rage had gone from his voice; it was mocking, derisive.
"Goin' to ride?" he said. "Oh, don't! Them horses look dead tired.
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