He worked himself into a passion which knew no fear and he ran for the streets of the town, there to make good his boast or to die.

When he found his enemy he felt himself grasped with a grip of steel and Buck Peters swung him around and grinned maliciously in his face: "You plaything!" hoarsely whispered the foreman.

"Why don't yu get away while yu can?
Why do yu want to throw yoreself against certain death?
I don't want my pleasure marred by a murder, an' that is what it will be if yu makes a gun-play at Hopalong.

He'll shoot yu as he did yore buttons.

Take yore pretty clothes an' yore pretty cayuse an' go where this is not known, an' if ever again yu feels like killing Hopalong, get drunk an' forget it.".