When a man insults me, I drop him," and the speaker rolled his
eyes in what was meant to stimulate ferocity.
Bradley eyed him shrewdly, and was not quite so much impressed as
Mosely intended him to be. He had observed that the greatest
boasters did not always possess the largest share of courage.
"Isn't that so, Tom?" asked Bill Mosely, appealing to his friend.
"I should say so," answered Tom, nodding emphatically.
"You've seen me in a scrimmage more than once?"
"I should say I have."
"Did you ever see me shoot a man that riled me?"
"Dozens of times," returned Hadley, who appeared to play second
fiddle to his terrible companion.
"That's the kind of man I am," said Bill Mosely, in a tone of
complacency.
Still, Bradley did not seem particularly nervous or frightened. He
was fast making up his mind that Mosely was a cheap bully, whose
words were more terrible than his deeds. Ben had less experience of
men, and he regarded the speaker as a reckless desperado, ready to
use his knife or pistol on the least provocation. He began to think
he would have preferred solitude to such society. He was rather
surprised to hear Bradley say quietly:
"Mosely, you're a man after my own heart.
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