Just untie my hands for ten minutes and stand up
to me bare-fisted. I want one chance before I go, to fight you, or any
of you, or all of you! Or, if you are afraid to fight that way, give
me a pistol--I never fired one until tonight--and let me shoot it out
with you. Surely men who swagger around with pistols in their belts,
and pride themselves on the use of them, ought not to be afraid to take
a chance against a man who has never but once fired one!" There was an
awkward pause and the pilgrim laughed harshly: "There isn't an ounce of
sporting blood among you! You hunt in packs like the wolves you
are--twenty to one--and that one with a rope around his neck and his
hands tied!"
"The odds is a little against you," drawled the Texan. "Where might
you hail from?"
"From a place where they breed men--not curs."
"Ain't you afraid to die?"
"Just order your hounds to jerk on that rope and I'll show you whether
or not I am afraid to die. But let me tell you this, you damned
murderer! If any harm comes to that girl--to Miss Marcum--may the
curse of God follow every last one of you till you are damned in a
fiery hell! You will kill me now, but you won't be rid of me. I'll
haunt you every one to your graves. I will follow you night and day
till your brains snap and you go howling to hell like maniacs.
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