MUSIC FOR OLD NICK A thought is like a spur.

It lifts the head of a man as the spur makes the horse toss his; and it quickens the pace with a subtle addition of strength.

Such a thought came to Buck Daniels as he stepped again on the veranda of the hotel.

It could not have been an altogether pleasant inspiration, for it drained the colour from his face and made him clench his broad hands; and next he loosened his revolver in its holster.

A thought of fighting--of some desperate chance he had once taken, perhaps.
But also it was a thought which needed considerable thought.