His name is Dan Barry, and they call him “the Manslayer.” His best friend is a savage wolf-dog no other man can touch. They say his gun is faster than summer lightning and has never missed its mark. They say no bullet yet cast can kill him. His lifeblood is danger, and it flows with the cool recklessness of a surging mountain stream.
Some say he is a wild man, some say he is a ghost. But one thing they agree on: once you cross Dan Barry there are only two things left to do—buy your wife widow’s weeds and order a pine box that fits your measurements.
