"No. I'm square. You saw me play square with your rustler pard. He was a lifelong enemy of mine. An' a gun-fighter to boot!... Pull your gun an' let drive. I'll take my chances."
Buster Jack's eyes dilated. He gasped huskily. He pulled his gun, but actually did not have strength or courage enough to raise it. His arm shook so that the gun rattled against his chaps.
"No nerve, hey? Not half a man!... Buster Jack, why don't you finish game? Make up for your low-down tricks. At the last try to be worthy of your dad. In his day he was a real man.... Let him have the consolation that you faced Hell-Bent Wade an' died in your boots!"
"I--can't--fight you!" panted Belllounds. "I know now!... I saw you throw a gun! It wouldn't be fair!"
"But I'll make you fight me," returned Wade, in steely tones. "I'm givin' you a chance to dig up a little manhood. Askin' you to meet me man to man! Handin' you a little the best of it to make the odds even!... Once more, will you be game?"
"Wade, I'll not fight--I'm going--" replied Belllounds, and he moved as if to turn.
"Halt!..." Wade leaped at the white Belllounds. "If you run I'll break a leg for you--an' then I'll beat your miserable brains out!... Have you no sense? Can't you recognize what's comin'?... I'm goin' to kill you, Buster Jack!"
"My God!" whispered the other, understanding fully at last.
"Here's where you pay for your dirty work. The time comes to every man. You've a choice, not to live--for you'll never get away from Hell-Bent Wade--but to rise above yourself at last."
"But what for? Why do you want to kill me? I never harmed you."