Sometimes right hyar where you could hit elk with a club we're out of fresh meat." "Yes, I can handle guns," replied Wade, with a quiet smile and a lowering of his head.

"Reckon you didn't catch my name." "Wal--no, I didn't," slowly replied Belllounds, and his pause, with the keener look he bestowed upon Wade, told how the latter's query had struck home.
"Wade--Bent Wade," said Wade, with quiet distinctness.
"_Not Hell-Bent Wade!_" ejaculated Belllounds.
"The same....

I ain't proud of the handle, but I never sail under false colors." "Wal, I'll be damned!" went on the rancher.

"Wade, I've heerd of you fer years.

Some bad, but most good, an' I reckon I'm jest as glad to meet you as if you'd been somebody else." "You'll give me the job ?" "I should smile." "I'm thankin' you.