"
He made a pace forward and every man shrank a little away from him.
"Because the cold in your blood is part hate and more fear, Black
Gandil."
The eyes of Gandil glared back for an instant. With all his soul he
yearned for the courage to pull his gun, but his arm was numb; he
could not move it, and his eyes wavered and fell.
The shaggy gray head of Jim Boone fell likewise, and he was murmuring
to his savage old heart: "The good days are over. They'll never rest
till one of 'em is dead, and then the rest will take sides and we'll
have gun-plays at night. Seven years, and then to break up!"
Dick Wilbur, as usual, was the pacifier. He strode across the room,
and the sharp sound of his heels on the creaking floor broke the
tension. He said softly to Pierre: "You've raised hell enough. Now
let's go and get Jack down here to undo what you've just finished.
Besides, you've got to ask her for that dance, eh?"
The glance of Pierre still lingered on Gandil as he turned and
followed Wilbur up the complaining stairs to the one habitable room in
the second story of the house.
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