"Come to buy, I guess. He looks like money."
"Looks like a confounded dude."
"We'll see his hand in a minute."
Donnegan was now opposite the dance hall, and Andy Lewis had his hand touching the butt of his gun, but though Donnegan was looking straight at him, he kept his reins in one hand and his heavy riding crop in the other. And without a move toward his own gun, he rode straight up to the door of the dance hall, with Andy in front of it. George drew rein behind him and turned upon the crowd one broad, superior grin.
As who should say: "I promised you lightning; now watch it strike!"
If the crowd had been expectant before, it was now reduced to wire-drawn tenseness.
"Are you the fellow who turned back my man?" asked Donnegan.
His quiet voice fell coldly upon the soul of Andy. He strove to warm himself by an outbreak of temper.
"They ain't any poor fool dude can call me a fellow!" he shouted.
The crowd blinked; but when it opened its eyes the gunplay had not occurred. The hand of Andy was relaxing from the butt of his gun and an expression of astonishment and contempt was growing upon his face.