He saw the wounded man carried into Pete's place across the way, and the dead man taken farther down the street.

He saw the crowd split into uneasy groups which spoke a common tongue, that they might exchange unasked opinions upon this, the biggest sensation since Sandy left town with his ankles tied under the vicious-eyed buckskin whose riders rode always toward the west and whose saddle was always empty when he came back to his stall at the end of the town.

Bill saw it all, to the last detail; but after his one explosive oath, he was apparently the most indifferent of them all.
When the Captain ended his curt instructions to the guard and came towards him, Bill showed a disposition to speak.
"Who's the kid ?" he drawled companionably, while his fingers itched upon the hammer, and the soul of him lusted for sight of the hole it could make in the skull of the Captain.

"I don't recollect seeing him around town--and there ain't many faces I forget, either." The Captain shot him a surprised look that was an unconscious tribute to Bill's diplomatic art.

But Bill's level glance would have disarmed a keener man than Tom Perkins.
Perkins stopped.