Duane, who had seen many men in perfect control of themselves under circumstances like these, recognized the spirit that dominated Aiken.

He was white, cold, passionless.

There were lines of bitter grief deep round his lips.

If Duane ever felt the meaning of death he felt it then.
"Sure this 's your game, Aiken," said Sibert.

"But hear me a minute.
Reckon there's no doubt about this man bein' Buck Duane.