This was the familiar language of the world, and, however the fellow came to be there, it was assuredly a man who spoke.

With a gurgling oath at his own folly, Murphy's anger flared violently forth into disjointed speech, the deadly gun yet clasped ready for instant action.
"Who--the hell--are ye ?" he blurted out.
The visitor laughed, the bushes rustling as he pushed toward the sound of the voice.

"It's all right, old boy.

Gave ye quite a scare, I reckon." Murphy could now dimly perceive the other advancing through the intervening willows, and his Colt shot up to the level.

"Stop!--ye take another--step an' I 'll--let drive.