“Ah, to be sure, boy, how do you know? Perhaps I do. Going to plan to get you somewhere all by yourselves, and then shoot you both. I am pretty good with a revolver.”
“Didn’t seem like it just now.”
“No, it didn’t,” said Gunson, coolly. “Ah, how like a boy that sounds. Do you know what shooting a man means?”
“Killing him if you fire straight,” said Esau.
“Right; and hurting him, eh?”
“Of course.”
“Well, look here, my lad; the man who shoots another hurts himself far more than he hurts his victim. You don’t understand that. Wait till you are as old as I am, and you will. I did not want to kill either of those ruffians. It was not a question of aiming, I had only to hold the pistol down, and it would have hit one of them. Well,” he continued, “shall I take you to the captain? and will you bring your things here? or will you go your own way?”
I looked at him fixedly, for everything in the man’s appearance seemed to say, “Don’t trust him,” till his one eye lit up, and a smile began to curl his lip. Then my hand went out to him.
“Yes,” I said, “you are an Englishman, and I’ll trust you.”
He gripped my hand hard, and then turned to Esau.