“Give your weapons to one of your pards there,” directed Merry. “I will pass mine to Wiley, and I’ll agree to take off my coat and give you a chance to do me up right here.”
“I think I smell smoke,” murmured the sailor, sniffing the air. “I think I smell fire and brimstone. I think there will be doings around here directly.”
“Whoop!” cried Spotted Dan. “It’s a go! Say, I makes you look like a piece of fresh beefsteak in just about two shakes.”
Then he turned to one of his companions and handed over a pistol and knife. He wore no coat, and when he had cast his old hat on the floor and thrust back his sleeves, exposing his brawny, hairy arms, he declared he was ready.
The barkeeper had remonstrated. Merry was known in Prescott, and to the man behind the bar he said:
“Whatever damage is done I will pay for. I will set ’em up for every one who comes in for the next hour besides.”
Then he placed his revolver on the bar and coolly drew off his coat, which he lay beside the pistol.
“Keep your ellipticals parabolically peeled,” warned Cap’n Wiley. “The gent with the dented countenance looks like a Peruvian dog. I don’t know as there is a Peruvian dog, but I judge so, because I have heard of Peruvian bark.”
Merry said nothing. His face was calm and grim as he thrust back the sleeves of his woolen shirt. He had a handsome forearm, finely developed and finely moulded, with the flesh firm and hard and the supple muscles showing beneath the silken skin.
“Come on!” cried Spotted Dan eagerly. “Step right out yere and git yer medicine.”