Bob knew that, although the man had nothing in his hands, he was reputed to be a streak of lightning when it came to getting a gun out, so he prudently did as he was ordered.
"That's better, an' see that yer keep 'em away." Then turning to the other he snapped: "Wall, yer poor snivling apology of a half-baked man, what yer got ter say fer yerself?"
"Nothing," Royce replied sullenly.
"Nothin', eh. Do yer know I've half a mind ter put a hunk o' lead in yer, right now?"
"Go ahead, if it'll do you any good," Royce retorted.
"Yer think I'm bluffing, eh. Then take this."
As he spoke the man's hand moved with the quickness of a flash toward his belt, but before the gun was out a deep voice boomed out:
"Hands up, Red. I gotta bead on yer an' I'll drill yer if yer move."
At the first word Hains' hand had stopped and before the command was finished they were elevated above his head. Then Slats Magee stepped into view.
"Real nice social little party we got here," he said keeping his gun trained on Hains. "An' will yer look at who's here?" he added motioning with his head to Hains.