The kick had brought out the rage in Belllounds at the expense of the amaze and alarm. "Did you kick _me?_" he shouted. "Buster, I was only handin' you a bunch of flowers--some columbines, as your taste runs," replied Wade, contemptuously. "I'll--I'll--" returned Buster Jack, wildly, bursting for expression. His hand went to his gun. "Go ahead, Buster. Throw your gun on me. That'll save maybe a hell of a lot of talk." It was then Jack Belllounds's face turned livid. Comprehension had dawned upon him. "You--you want me to fight you?" he queried, in hoarse accents. "I reckon that's what I meant." No affront, no insult, no blow could have affected Buster Jack as that sudden knowledge. "Why--why--you're crazy! Me fight you--a gunman," he stammered. "No--no. It wouldn't be fair. Not an even break!... No, I'd have no chance on earth!" "I'll give you first shot," went on Wade, in his strange, monotonous voice. "Bah! You're lying to me," replied Belllounds, with pale grimace. "You just want me to get a gun in my hand--then you'll drop me, and claim an even break." "No. I'm square. You saw me play square with your rustler pard. He was a lifelong enemy of mine. An' a gun-fighter to boot!... Pull your gun an' let drive. I'll take my chances." Buster Jack's eyes dilated. He gasped huskily. He pulled his gun, but actually did not have strength or courage enough to raise it. His arm shook so that the gun rattled against his chaps. "No nerve, hey? Not half a man!... Buster Jack, why don't you finish game? Make up for your low-down tricks. At the last try to be worthy of your dad. In his day he was a real man.... Let him have the consolation that you faced Hell-Bent Wade an' died in your boots!" "I--can't--fight you!" panted Belllounds. "I know now!... I saw you throw a gun! It wouldn't be fair!" "But I'll make you fight me," returned Wade, in steely tones. "I'm givin' you a chance to dig up a little manhood. Askin' you to meet me man to man! Handin' you a little the best of it to make the odds even!... Once more, will you be game?" "Wade, I'll not fight--I'm going--" replied Belllounds, and he moved as if to turn. "Halt!..." Wade leaped at the white Belllounds. "If you run I'll break a leg for you--an' then I'll beat your miserable brains out!... Have you no sense? Can't you recognize what's comin'?... _I'm goin' to kill you, Buster Jack!_" "My God!" whispered the other, understanding fully at last. "Here's where you pay for your dirty work. The time comes to every man. You've a choice, not to live--for you'll never get away from Hell-Bent Wade--but to rise above yourself at last." "But what for? Why do you want to kill me? I never harmed you." "Columbine is my daughter!" replied the hunter. "Ah!" breathed Belllounds. "She loves Wils Moore, who's as white a man as you are black." Across the pallid, convulsed face of Belllounds spread a slow, dull crimson.