Though he had waited for the coming of Ten Spot, he had formulated no plan of action; he had felt that somehow he would come out of the clash with him without injury. He still thought so. In spite of his danger he felt that some chance of escape would be offered him. Grimly confident of this he smiled at the man, though still holding his gaze, determined, if he saw the faintest flicker of decision in his eyes, to duck and tackle him regardless of consequences. "I suppose you are Ten Spot?" he said slowly. He was surprised at the steadiness of his voice. The man grinned, his eyes alert, shifty, filled with a chilling menace. "You've got her right, tenderfoot," he said; "'Ten Spot's' m' handle, an' if you're a-feelin' like criticizin' of her do her some rapid before I starts dealin' out the lead which is in my pritty." Just how one man could be so entirely remorseless as to shoot another when that other man was looking straight into his eyes Hollis could not understand. He could readily realize how a man could kill when provoked to anger, or when brooding over an injury. But he had done nothing to Ten Spot--did not even know him--had never seen him before, and how Ten Spot could deliberately shoot him--without provocation--was incomprehensible. He was convinced that in order to shoot, Ten Spot must work himself into an artificial rage, and he believed that the vile epithet which Ten Spot had applied to him immediately upon his entrance must be part of his scheme. He was convinced that had he shown the slightest resentment over the application of the epithet Ten Spot would have shot him down at once. Therefore he resolved to give the man no opportunity to work himself into a rage. He smiled again as Ten Spot concluded and carelessly twisted himself about in his chair until he was in a position to make a quick spring. "'Ten Spot' is a picturesque name," he remarked quietly, not removing his gaze from Ten Spot's eyes for the slightest fraction of a second; "I have no criticism to make. I have always made it a point to refrain from criticizing my visitors. At least I do not recollect ever having criticized a visitor who carried a gun," he concluded with a smile. Ten Spot's lips curled sarcastically. Apparently he would not swerve in his determination to provoke trouble. "Hell," he said truculently, "that there palaver makes me sick. I reckon you're too damn white livered to criticize a man that's lookin' at you. There ain't no tenderfoot (here he applied the unprintable epithet again) got nerve enough to criticize nothin'!" Hollis slowly raised his hands and placed them on the arms of his chair, apparently to steady himself, but in reality to be ready to project himself out of the chair in case he could discern any indication of action on Ten Spot's part.