“Hey, you,” said George from across the fire, “you’re a liar.” His little dead blue eyes were blazing like a wounded wild boar’s. “You was a good bum, but you’re dog meat now.” A gun flashed from beneath his coat, and he fired into Gold Tooth twice. Six feet away, I could feel the slugs hit him. His head fell forward and both hands went to his chest, where he was hit. He turned round, like a dog getting ready to lie down and fell on his face. His hat rolled into the fire. His hands were clawing the red-hot coals.