outfit." And then the dealer lowered his voice still further and
said something in the other man's ear, causing him to grin. After
which both of them looked at me.

There had been silence over in the corner; but now the man
Trampas spoke again.

"AND ten," said he, sliding out some chips from before him. Very
strange it was to hear him, how he contrived to make those words
a personal taunt. The Virginian was looking at his cards. He
might have been deaf.

"AND twenty," said the next player, easily.

The next threw his cards down.

It was now the Virginian's turn to bet, or leave the game, and he
did not speak at once.

Therefore Trampas spoke. "Your bet, you son-of-a--."

The Virginian's pistol came out, and his hand lay on the table,
holding it unaimed. And with a voice as gentle as ever, the voice
that sounded almost like a caress, but drawling a very little
more than usual, so that there was almost a space between each
word, he issued his orders to the man Trampas: "When you call me
that, SMILE." And he looked at Trampas across the table.

Yes, the voice was gentle. But in my ears it seemed as if
somewhere the bell of death was ringing; and silence, like a