"You mean to say you'd blow my brains out?"
"Yes, if your brains are where my gun is aimed, as I think the brains of rebels must be, or they never would have seceded."
Frank's gun, by the way, was aimed at the above mentioned very exposed and prominent part.
"Grayback" grinned and growled.
"Come, my young joker, I can't stand this!"
"You'll have to stand it till you throw down that revolver!"
"I'm slipping!"
"Then I'll give you something sharp to slip on!"
The man felt that he had really betrayed himself by making the involuntary movement towards his breast-pocket, which Frank had been too shrewd not to notice. The cocked gun, and bayonet, and resolute young face below, were inexorable. So he yielded.
"Don't throw it towards me! Drop it the other side!" cried the wary Frank.