Tell that to John Graham for me." He advanced upon Rossland, who had risen from his chair; his hands were clenched, his face a mask of iron.
"Get out! Go before I flay you within an inch of your rotten life!" The energy which every fiber in him yearned to expend upon Rossland sent the table crashing back in an overturned wreck against the wall.
"Go--before I kill you!" He was advancing, even as the words of warning came from his lips, and the man before him, an awe-stricken mass of flesh that had forgotten power and courage in the face of a deadly and unexpected menace, backed quickly to the door and escaped.

He made for the corrals, and Alan watched from his door until he saw him departing southward, accompanied by two men who bore packs on their shoulders.

Not until then did Rossland gather his nerve sufficiently to stop and look back.

His breathless voice carried something unintelligible to Alan.

But he did not return for his coat and hat.
The reaction came to Alan when he saw the wreck he had made of the table.