A man likes to be held the master--be the
slave circumstance, danger, an opposing human, or his own appetite; and
although Ford was not the type of man who troubles himself much about
the opinions of his fellows, it irked him much that Dick or any other
man should sneer at him for a weakling.
He went to another saloon, found and hired a cow-puncher strayed up from
Valley County, and when Dick came in, a half-hour later, Ford went to
the bar and deliberately "called up the house." He had been minded to
choose a mineral water then, but he caught Dick's mocking eye upon him,
and instead took whisky straight, and stared challengingly at the other
over the glass tilted against his lips.
After that, the liquor itself waged relentless war against his good
resolutions, so that it did not need the urge of Dick's fancied
derision to send him down the trail which the past had made familiar. He
sat in to a poker game that was creating a small zone of subdued
excitement at the far end of the room, and while he was arranging his
stacks of red, white, and blue chips neatly before him, he was
unpleasantly conscious of Dick's supercilious smile.
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