Eyes blazing, he looked toward the shotgun. Jeff saw and interpreted his glance.
"Remember! We're not going off half-cocked."
"Uh—All right."
Jeff opened the door and saw the man standing in front of the cabin. Pete Whitney's clothing was slipshod, but that alone did not give him the air he had. Jeff was not able to place it at once. There was something about him that should not be, something very like a surly animal. About thirty, Pete had fine blond hair that seemed rooted so precariously that the slightest wind might blow it away. His unshaven cheeks were covered with stubble.
Pale blue eyes shifted sideways, and he raised a foot as though about to run. Yet, at the same time, it was as though he had no intention of running. As far as Jeff could see, he carried no firearms, but he acted as though he were armed, and doubtless he was. Mentally, Jeff compared him to the man he had met yesterday. That man had also been careless of his clothing and appearance, but there was a strength and character in his being that was not evident in Pete. Barr Whitney was strong. Pete was weak.
Jeff asked pleasantly, "Something I can do for you?"
"Nao." Pete spoke with a high nasal twang. "You live here?"
"Since yesterday," Jeff said. "Dan and I are here together."
"I swan!" Pete ejaculated. "I swan!"
Jeff saw that he was obviously frightened. In spite of the fact that he seemed to be a man who would take fright easily, he might need help.