"If you know me, there's no need for us to be introduced," Lambert returned.
"Duke of Chimney Butte!" said Hargus with immeasurable scorn. He grunted his words with such an intonation of insult that it would have been pardonable to shoot him on the spot. Lambert was slow to kindle. He put a curb now on even his naturally deliberate vehicle of wrath, looking the man through his shallow eyes down to the roots of his mean soul.
"You're the feller that's come here to teach us fellers to take off our hats when we see a fence," Hargus said, looking meaner with every breath.
"You've got it right, pardner," Lambert calmly replied.
"Duke of Chimney Butte! Well, pardner, I'm the King of Hotfoot Valley, and I've got travelin' papers for you right here!"
"You seem to be a little sudden about it," Lambert said, a lazy drawl to his words that inflamed Hargus like a blow.
"Not half as sudden as you'll be, kid. This country ain't no place for you, young feller; you're too fresh to keep in this hot climate, and the longer you stay the hotter it gits. I'll give you just two days to make your gitaway in."
"Consider the two days up," said Lambert with such calm and such coolness of head that men who heard him felt a thrill of admiration.
"This ain't no joke!" Hargus corrected him.
"I believe you, Hargus. As far as it concerns me, I'm just as far from this country right now as I'll be in two days, or maybe two years. Consider your limit up."