"We're not at war with Spain, but we are surely at war with Braxton Wyatt.

I think the second man in the boat is Braxton.
Hold her steady just a second, Sol." Henry shipped his oars, knelt a moment, and up went the long, slender barrel of his Kentucky rifle.

As he looked down the sight he was sure that the man at whom he was aiming was Braxton Wyatt, and he was sure, moreover, that he would not miss.

But a feeling for which he could not account made him deflect slightly the muzzle of his weapon.
Braxton Wyatt richly deserved death for crimes already done and he would be, as long as he lived, a deadly menace to the border.

But Henry felt that he could not be both judge and executioner.