“You'd better shut up,” said Riggs, darkly.
“I will not shut up,” declared Bo.
“Then I'll gag you,” he threatened.
“Gag me! Why, you dirty, low-down, two-bit of a bluff!” she exclaimed, hotly, “I'd like to see you try it. I'll tear that long hair of yours right off your head.”
Riggs advanced toward her with his hands clutching, as if eager to throttle her. The girl leaned forward, her face reddening, her eyes fierce.
“You damned little cat!” muttered Riggs, thickly. “I'll gag you—if you don't stop squallin'.”
“Come on. I dare you to lay a hand on me.... Harve Riggs, I'm not the least afraid of you. Can't you savvy that? You're a liar, a four-flush, a sneak! Why, you're not fit to wipe the feet of any of these outlaws.”
Riggs took two long strides and bent over her, his teeth protruding in a snarl, and he cuffed her hard on the side of the head.
Bo's head jerked back with the force of the blow, but she uttered no cry.
“Are you goin' to keep your jaw shut?” he demanded, stridently, and a dark tide of blood surged up into his neck.