"Give me that gun!"
Beck wrenched the weapon free. The group had drawn back and behind him Sam McKee made a quick movement. Two-Bits, beside him, dropped his hand to his hip and muttered:
"Keep out of this!"
McKee, hate flickering in his face, subsided, without protest, as a craven will.
Tom broke the gun and the cartridges scattered on the floor. He closed it with a snap and sent it spinning down the bar, clear to the far end. His eyes had not left Webb's face.
"You're a liar," he said again quietly. "You're a liar and you're going to tell all the boys here that you're a liar."
"Don't tell me I lie!"—retreating a step as Beck's body swayed toward him.
"You lied," Tom said quietly, though his voice was not just steady. His hands were clenched and he held them slightly before his body as though yearning for opportunity to seize upon and injure the other.
"What is it to you, anyhow, if—"
"It's this to me, Webb: It makes me want to strangle the foul breath in your throat! That's what it is to me an' before these boys I will if you don't swallow your own dirty words just to get their taste.