“Let me take your popgun, mate,” he said, extending his hand toward Henry. “Mine is a little too small to do the trick properly.”
Henry handed over his pistol.
Wiley examined it critically, finally shaking his head.
“It’s a mighty poor gun for a man of your standing to carry, mate,” he asserted. “Perhaps you have a better one, Shawmut? Let me see.”
Shawmut also gave up his pistol.
Having a revolver in each hand, Cap’n Wiley cocked them both.
“They seem to be in good working order,” he said. “I should fancy either of them would kill a man quicker than he could wink his eye.”
“You bet your boots!” said Henry.
“That being the case,” observed Wiley, “I will now proceed to business.”
Then, to the surprise of the two ruffians, he leveled the pistols straight at them.