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 Ben Williams saw it, saw that Sage's brow was damp with sweat. Good God! when he spoke, as he did suddenly, my own heart stood still.

"You're a hell of a bad man!" said Ben. The words split the air like the crack of a pistol in darkness. I saw Sage-brush writhe, saw his mouth open, saw his dry tongue upon his lower lip. Ben moved up to him. His eyes were like coals, and he laughed.

"You're a hell of a bad man. Greet," he said again. And poor Sage's jaw waggled; his lip dropped. I heard the Colonel gasp. And Ben spoke again as he thrust his right hand out.

"What's that you've got, Red River?" he asked. He thrust his hand deliberately under Sage's jacket, and took his "gun" from him. It was hideous, it was monstrous. It seemed to me that I saw a writhing thing beneath his heel. Tears, yes, tears, ran down Sage's cheeks, and he shook like a poor fascinated beast. An hour ago he had been a man; now he was lower than the poorest beast that limps vainly from inevitable death.