As the weapon came down Merry caught it, snapped it open, casting out the cartridges, and politely returned it to its owner.
“I beg your pardon,” he said. “Here is your gun. But I believe it is a dangerous thing for you to have round. You might shoot somebody with it.”
Hazen was frothing. Derring struggled up and reached for his hip.
“Look out!” cried Hodge.
Frank was on the alert. He leaped on Derring, twisted his hand from his hip, jerked out the revolver himself, and sent the weapon flying across the street.
“Some of you Western people are extremely careless with your shooting-irons,” he observed. “Come on, fellows.”
Then, accompanied by his friends, he walked away.