"You shot him. That's the truth," came the retort, sharp as a pistol report.
This appeared to give me the opportunity I sought of being able to take out my revolver without any apparent hostile intention. "Here's my revolver. You can see for yourself it hasn't been fired."
But it was as bad a blunder as I could have made. One of them craned his neck forward as if to satisfy himself of the truth of what I had said; and then gave a cry of rage. "It's Gassen's pistol. There's his mark on it. I know it."
The rest followed his pointing finger.
"Well, anyway it's loaded in all six chambers; and it's the only one that's going to be drawn now." I spoke very coolly and watched the three newcomers closely.
"What about no treachery now?" cried one, turning to the elder man.
"You've brought this on yourselves by suspecting me. You'd better go before there's any trouble," I said to the three. If I could get rid of them, the others would give little trouble enough.
"You'd better go," said the "general" nervously.
They were perplexed what to do, and stood hesitating near the door. The sight of my weapon had a very wholesome restraining effect. One of them began to back out, and it looked as if I was going to get my way and frighten them off.
But just as this appeared most probable and I was beginning to breathe more freely again, trouble came from the man, Schmidt, whom I had treated with contemptuous indifference as of no account.