"Well, a mule is a mule, a coward is a coward, and a gambler is a—son-of-a-gun," paraphrased the Chief. "If he hasn't any courage he can't force it into himself."
"Do you think so?"
"I know so. I've seen it tried. Some people are born cowards and can't help themselves. As for me, I was never troubled much that way. I suppose you find it the same, too."
"No. My only consolation lies in thinking it's barely possible the other fellow may be as badly frightened as I am."
Donnelly scoffed openly. "I never saw a man stand up better than you. Why I've touted you as the gamest chap I ever saw. Do you remember that dago Misetti who jumped from here into your parish when you were sheriff?"
Blake smiled. "I'm not likely to forget him."
"You walked into a gun that day when you knew he'd use it."
"He didn't, though—at least not much. Perhaps he was as badly rattled as I was."
"Have it your own way," the Chief said. "But that reminds me, he's out again."
"Indeed! I hadn't heard."