Beauty Smith put his hands behind his back, refusing to touch the proffered money.
"I ain't a-sellin'," he said.
"0h, yes you are," the other assured him. "Because I'm buying. Here's your money. The dog's mine."
Beauty Smith, his hands still behind him, began to back away.
Scott sprang toward him, drawing his fist back to strike. Beauty Smith cowered down in anticipation of the blow.
"I've got my rights," he whimpered.
"You've forfeited your rights to own that dog," was the rejoinder. "Are you going to take the money? or do I have to hit you again?"
"All right," Beauty Smith spoke up with the alacrity of fear. "But I take the money under protest," he added. "The dog's a mint. I ain't a-goin' to be robbed. A man's got his rights."
"Correct," Scott answered, passing the money over to him. "A man's got his rights. But you're not a man. You're a beast."
"Wait till I get back to Dawson," Beauty Smith threatened. "I'll have the law on you."
"If you open your mouth when you get back to Dawson, I'll have you run out of town. Understand? "
Beauty Smith replied with a grunt.
"Understand?" the other thundered with abrupt fierceness.
