By this time the store was in confusion. Customers were getting out of range in any way they could.
They were hiding under counters, and rushing to the door in a panic which threatened to depopulate the place of business.
“Leave the gun where it is,” came the voice of Buck.
His tone was low and musical, but there was a glitter in his smiling eyes which commanded obedience.
The fellow stood sullenly awaiting the next move.
“I ought to fill you full of lead,” went on the voice, “but I can’t find it in my heart to shoot such a low-down coyote as you. Got another gun on you?”
The man shook his head.
“I’ll find that out for myself, I reckon. Cattle like you ain’t to be trusted.”
When the search had progressed as far as the pistol pocket a wicked looking knife was discovered.
“You cur!” said Buck. “I make you a present of your life, and this is the way I’m paid.”