She had slipped back the chimney into the clamps and was waiting for it to heat so that she could turn up the wick when the faintest of creaks at the door made her look up.
She did not move, just stood there staring stupidly at the bareheaded man that blocked the open doorway. For the bareheaded man was Dan Slike, his harsh face rendered even less prepossessing than usual by a week's stubble of beard. A six-shooter was in Dan Slike's hand, and the barrel was pointing at her breast.
"Don't go makin' any move toward that rifle on the hooks back of you," said Dan Slike, slipping into the room and closing the door behind him. "If you do, I'll have to beef you. I don't wanna hurt you—I ain't in the habit of hurting women, but by Gawd, if it comes to me or you, why it'll just naturally have to be you. Dish up that grub a-frying there on the stove. I'm hungry. Get a move on."
At that she turned in a flash and reached for the Winchester. She had it barely off the hooks when Dan Slike was beside her. With his left hand he seized the gun barrel and shoved it upward. And as he did so, he smote her across the top of the head with his pistol barrel.
A rocketing sheaf of sparks danced before her eyes and her knees gave way. She sank to the floor in a dazed heap. He dragged the Winchester from her failing grasp as she fell.
He began to work the lever of the rifle with expert rapidity. A twinkling stream of cartridges twirled against his chest and fell to the floor. Carefully he gathered all the cartridges and dropped them into the side pocket of his coat. The unloaded rifle he leaned against the door jamb.
Hazel slowly raised her body to a sitting position. She clung to a leg of the table for support. She passed a hand very tenderly across the top of her head. She felt a little nauseated.
Dan Slike, watching her with hard, bright eyes, strode to the stove and poured himself out a cup of coffee. He spaded in a spoonful of sugar and stirred the mixture meditatively. But he did not cease to watch her.
"You'll be all right in about ten minutes," he said calmly. "I didn't hit you so awful hard. I didn't go to. Gawd, no! I figure always to be as gentle with a woman as I can. No sense in bein' rougher than you got to be, I say."
He drank the coffee slowly, with evident enjoyment.