Barry turned his head and smiled up to the horse.
Then he said: "Seems like if Jerry Strann dies I owe somebody something.
Who?
Mac Strann, I reckon.

I sort of got to stay and give him his chance." "I hope to God," burst out Daniels, smashing his hands together, "that Mac Strann beats you to a pulp! That's what I hope!" The eyes of Dan Barry widened.
"Why d'you hope that ?" he asked gently.
It brought Daniels again to speechlessness.
"Is it possible ?" he growled to himself.

"Are you a human bein' and yet you think more of your hoss and your damned wolf-dog than you do of the life of a man?
Dan, I'm askin' you straight, is that a square thing to do ?" The fragile hands went out to him, palm up.
"Don't you see, Buck?
I don't want to be this way.

I jest can't help it!" "Then the Lord help poor old Joe Cumberland--him that took you in out of the desert--him that raised you from the time you was a kid--him that nursed you like you was his own baby--him that loved you more'n he loved Kate--him that's lyin' back there now with fire in his eyes, waitin', waitin', waitin', for you to come back.

Dan, if you was to see him you'd go down on your knees and ask him to forgive you!" "I s'pose I would," murmured Barry thoughtfully.
"Dan, you're goin' to go with me!" "I don't somehow think its my time for movin', Buck." "Is that all you got to say to me ?" "I guess maybe it is, Buck." "If I was to beg you to come for old-time's sake, and all we been through together, you and me, wouldn't it make no difference to you ?" The large, gentle eyes focused far beyond Buck Daniels, somewhere on a point in the pale, hazy blue of the spring sky.
"I'm kind of tired of talkin', Buck," he said at length.
And Buck Daniels rose and walked slowly away, with his head fallen.
Behind him the stallion neighed suddenly and loud, and it was so much like a blast of defiant triumph that Buck whirled and shook his clenched fist at Satan..