"Then ye'll do. Most every tenderfoot that comes this way is clean off the finest shot and the best ter sit a horse that was ever seen. They git to teachin' the old hands. Ef yer ain't used to neither, reckon ye'll shape mighty soon. I ain't one who holds with side. Deeds is worth a hull wagon load of boastin'."
"And words ain't much in your line," laughed Tom. "I never heard Steve make a longer speech. He's took well to yer, Jack. Now then, listen here, mate. This Jack's begun his shootin' already. We got held up back thar down the line, and he cleared us proper. Jest cast yer eye up there at the roof."
Steve strode beneath the lantern, and rapidly surveyed the punctures which the robber's bullets had made. In a flash his eye took in the general disorder, the broken window, the stained carpet, and the long form lying beneath the sailcloth.
"It war warm while it lasted," he said, returning. "Whar was you?"
Jack pointed aloft. "On the roof," he said quietly. "He'd have had me there I expect. So I held on to a smokestack, and shot him through the window."
Steve strode to the side of the car, and once more surveyed the surroundings. He leaped to the ground, and they saw him clambering along the footboard. Then he returned as suddenly as he had gone.
"Ever pulled a trigger afore?" he asked bluntly.
"Never."
"And yer was upside down, so ter speak?"
"That's so," admitted Jack.