Duane sits down there on the bench and lets old Abe Strickland grab his gun ant get the drop on him.

More'n that, he gives me some strange talk about how, if he couldn't make you believe he's innocent, he'd better be dead.

You see for yourself Duane ain't drunk or crazy or locoed.

He doesn't strike me as a man who rode in here huntin' blood.

So I reckon you'd better hold on till you hear what he has to say." Then for the first time the drawn-faced, hungry-eyed giant turned his gaze upon Duane.