But if you really want to know,
I'm the fellow you hired Saunders to shoot. You blundered that
time. You should have picked a better man, Mr. Baumberger.
Saunders couldn't have hit the side of a barn if he'd been locked
inside it. You ought to have made sure--"
Baumberger glared at him, and then lunged, his eyes like an
animal gone mad.
"I'll make a better job, then!" he bellowed. "Saunders was a
fool. I told him to get down next the trail and make a good job
of it. I told him to kill you, you lying, renegade Injun--and if
he couldn't, I can! Yuh WILL watch me, hey?"
Good Indian backed from him in sheer amazement. Epithets
unprintable poured in a stream from the loose, evil lips.
Baumberger was a raving beast of a man. He would have torn the
other to pieces and reveled in the doing. He bellowed forth
threats against Good Indian and the Harts, young and old, and
vaunted rashly the things he meant to do. Heat-mad and drink-mad
he was, and it was as if the dam of his wily amiability had
broken and let loose the whole vile reservoir of his pirate mind.
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