"The cowardly fool won't move; he's whipped to death now." Brant's jaw set like that of a fighting bulldog.
"Reno, you mean?
Whipped?
You have n't lost twenty men.

Is this the Seventh--the Seventh ?--skulking here under cover while Custer begs help?
Doesn't the man know?
Doesn't he understand?
By heaven, I 'll face him myself! I 'll make him act, even if I have to damn him to his face." He swung his horse with a jerk to the left, but even as the spurs touched, Weir grasped the taut rein firmly.
"It's no use, Brant.

It's been done; we've all been at him.

He's simply lost his head.

Know?
Of course he knows.