“I’ll bet you’re a dead shot. If them eyes was behind a gun thet was pinted at me, I’d put up my hands without bein’ asked a second time.”
“Were you ever held up by bandits?” asked Grace, eager to get the old stagecoach driver started talking of his experiences.
“Regular thing in the old days.”
“What did you do in those emergencies?”
“Ginerally put up my paws when I was invited to. Such fellows can shoot and most always does.”
“But, Mr. Fairweather, did your passengers never venture to defend themselves!”
“Once a man did. He’s down there now, near where we’re goin’ to stop for chuck—in Squaw Valley.”
“He was not quick enough! Is that it, sir!”
“You said it. Was the Germans quick on the trigger?”
“Their sharpshooters were very quick. Good shots, too, all of them, but our sharpshooters could beat them at stalking. You know our boys like to fight Indian style, while the German fights by rule and orders.”