“I advise you,” said de Spain once more, looking with the words at Sandusky and his crony, “to keep out of it.”
“Sandusky,” yelled Logan to his partner, “he advises me and you to keep out of this fight,” he shrilly laughed.
“Sure,” assented Sandusky, but with no variation in tone and his eyes on de Spain.
Logan, with an oath, leaned over the bar toward Sassoon, and pointed contemptuously toward the end of the bar. “Shike!” he cried, “step through the rail and take that man’s gun.”
De Spain, looking from one to the other of the four faces confronting him, laughed for the first time. But he was looking without seeing what 134 he seemed to look at. In reality, he saw only a cut-glass button. He was face to face with taking a man’s life or surrendering his own, and he knew the life must be taken in such a way as instantly to disable its possessor. These men had chosen their time and place. There was nothing for it but to meet them. Sassoon was stepping toward him, though very doubtfully. De Spain laughed again, dryly this time. “Go slow, Sassoon,” he said. “That gun is loaded.”
“If you want terms, hand over your gun to Sassoon,” cried Logan.
“Not till it’s empty,” returned de Spain. “Do you want to try taking it?” he demanded of Logan, his cheeks burning a little darker. 135
Hugging his shield, de Spain threw his second shot over Sandusky’s left shoulder.