He goes a mile to get ten feet higher." "This fact," said Byrne, and he rubbed his chin thoughtfully, "is not without interest, though I fail to perceive the relation between me and such a creature, unless, perhaps, there are biologic similarities of which I have at present no cognition." "I didn't think you'd follow me," replied Buck with an equal gravity.
"But you can lay to this, Doc; this gent we're waitin' for ain't committed any more crimes than a wolf has." "Ah, I see," murmured the doctor, "a man so near the brute that his enormities pass beyond--" "Get this straight," said Buck, interrupting with a sternly pointed finger: "There ain't a kinder or a gentler man in the mountain-desert than him.

He's got a voice softer than Kate Cumberland's, which is some soft voice, and as for his heart--Doc, I've seen him get off his horse to put a wounded rabbit out of its pain!" A ring of awe came in the throat of Daniels as he repeated the incredible fact.
He went on: "If I was in trouble, I'd rather have him beside me than ten other men; if I was sick I'd rather have him than the ten best doctors in the world; if I wanted a pal that would die for them that done him good and go to hell to get them that done him bad, I'd choose him first, and there ain't none that come second." The panegyric was not a burst of imagination.

Buck Daniels was speaking seriously, hunting for words, and if he used superlatives it was because he needed them.
"Extraordinary!" murmured the doctor, and he repeated the word in a louder tone.

It was a rare word for him; in all his scholastic career and in all of his scientific investigations he had found occasion to use so strong a term not more than half a dozen times at the most.

He went on, cautiously, and his weak eyes blinked at Daniels: "And there is a relation between this man and a horse and dog ?" Buck Daniels shuddered and his colour changed.
"Listen!" he said, "I've talked enough.