And I'm not playing you dirt, and I haven't fallen in
love with the lady myself, as you seem to think. But she belongs to me,
body and soul. If you don't believe me--why, ask the lady herself, Billy!"
As he spoke, he turned his sneering eyes for the fraction of a second
toward Joanne. The movement was fatal. Quade was upon him. The hand in the
coat pocket flung itself upward, there followed a muffled report, but the
bullet flew wide. In all his life Aldous had never heard a sound like the
roar that came from Quade's throat then. He saw Mortimer FitzHugh's hand
appear with a pistol in it, and then the pistol was gone. He did not see
where it went to. He gripped his knife and waited, his heart beating with
what seemed like smothered explosions as he watched for the opportunity
which he knew would soon come. He expected to see FitzHugh go down under
Quade's huge bulk. Instead of that, a small, iron fist shot upward and
Quade's head went back as if broken from his neck.
FitzHugh sprang a step backward, and in the movement his heel caught the
edge of a pack-saddle. He stumbled, almost fell, and before he could
recover himself Quade was at him again.
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