"Try again, Sam!" said Banion, taunting him. "Bad luck--you landed on an empty!"
He did try again. Swift as an adder, his hands flung first one and then the other weapon into action.
Click after click, no more; Jackson sat dumb, expecting death.
"They're all empty, Sam," said Banion at last as the murderer cast down the revolvers and stood with spread hands. "For the first time, I didn't reload. I didn't think I'd need them."
"You can't blame me!" broke out Woodhull. "You said it was no quarter! Isn't a prisoner justified in trying to escape?"
"You've not escaped," said Banion, coldly now. "Rope him, Jackson."
The thin, soft hide cord fell around the man's neck, tightened.
"Now," shrilled Jackson, "I'll give ye a dog's death!"
He sprang to the side of the black Spaniard, who by training had settled back, tightening the rope.