To
his vast astonishment, at his last words Oldham turned deadly pale,
swayed in the saddle, and the revolver clattered past his stirrup to
fall in the dust. With a snarl of contempt at what he erroneously took
for a mere physical cowardice, Bob reached for his enemy and dragged him
from the saddle.
The chastisement was brief, but effective. Bob's anger cooled with the
first blow, for Oldham was no match for his younger and more vigorous
assailant. In fact, he hardly offered any resistance. Bob knocked him
down, shook him by the collar as a terrier shakes a ground squirrel, and
cast him fiercely in the dust. Oldham sat up, his face bleeding
slightly, his eyes bewildered with the suddenness of the onslaught. The
young man leaned over him, speaking vehemently to rivet his attention.
"Now you listen to me," said he. "You leave me alone. If I ever hear any
gossip, even, about what you will or will not do to me, I'll know where
it started from. The first word I hear from any one anywhere, I'll start
for you."
He looked down for a moment at the disorganized man seated in the thick,
white dust that was still floating lazily around him.
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