"Well, you don't need it, do you?" said Casey. "Observe, the gentleman still keeps his sawed-off yeggman's delight in his pocket. Pull it, friend, pull it! Don't scorch the cloth by pressing the trigger where it is. Steady, Shiner, while the gentleman shoots you!"
The guardian smiled sardonically. "Amuse yourselves, boys, but don't crowd in on me."
"Just as you say," replied Casey. "By the way, you needn't tire your arm holding my horse. He'll stand. Besides, I don't like it."
The man released the bridle and stepped back. "Make this easy for me, boys, I don't want trouble, but I got my instructions."
"Now, you listen here," said McHale. "Lemme tell you something: It's just hell's tender mercy on you I ain't got a gun. If I'd 'a' had it, you'd been beef by the trail right now."
"There's always two chances to be the beef," the other returned, unmoved. "Go fill your hand before you talk to me."
McHale grinned at him. "I like you better than I did, partner. Next time you won't have no kick on what I hold."
"We want to see Farwell," said Casey.
"Why couldn't you say that before?" the guardian returned. "I'll take a chance on you. Go in."
They found Farwell at his quarters before a table covered with prints and tracings.