Perhaps it was a tactless speech, but Bull was too dazed to think of grace in words. It brought a murderous snarl from the other.
"I'm old enough to be Jack Hood—maybe you've heard of me? And I'm young enough to polish off every unlicked cub in these parts. Now, curse you, what d'ye say to that?"
"I can only say," said Bull miserably, feeling his way, "that I don't want to fight."
With an oath Hood exclaimed, "A coward! They're all like that—every one of the big fellers. A yaller-hearted sneak!"
"Easy, Jack!" broke in one of the men.
"Let Jack alone," called the commanding voice of Hal Dunbar. "I saw
Hunter trip him!"
"But," pleaded Bull Hunter, "I give you my word—"
"Shut up! I've heard enough of your talk."
Bull Hunter obediently stopped his talk.
A sickening quiet drew through the room. Men bowed their heads or turned them away, for such cowardice was not pleasant to see. The little man in the shadow raised one hand and brushed it across his face.