“Understand?” the other thundered with abrupt fierceness.
“Yes,” Beauty Smith grunted, shrinking away.
“Yes what?”
“Yes, sir,” Beauty Smith snarled.
“Look out! He’ll bite!” some one shouted, and a guffaw of laughter went up.
Scott turned his back on him, and returned to help the dog-musher, who was working over White Fang.
Some of the men were already departing; others stood in groups, looking on and talking. Tim Keenan joined one of the groups.
“Who’s that mug?” he asked.
“Weedon Scott,” some one answered.
“And who in hell is Weedon Scott?” the faro-dealer demanded.