“Gee! if it isn’t a Colt .38.” And the boy gazed longingly on the revolver. “That sure looks like home.”
He held back the hammer and ran the cylinder around two or three times in wistful admiration, then he picked up two small rocks and throwing them into the air he fired twice in quick succession, shattering both rocks while they were still high in air.
There were exclamations of wonder from the soldiers, and the officer said something which was apparently very complimentary.
“I’ve just got to have that gun, Sid,”—and Raymond handled the revolver lovingly,—“I’m going to see if I can’t buy it.”
He took twenty rubles from his purse and holding the gold out to the soldier, pointed to the revolver. The soldier looked covetously at the money, but the officer shook his head, and taking the revolver from Raymond he showed some letters cut in the barrel, which evidently marked it as belonging to the Government.
“They wouldn’t dare to sell government property,” said Sidney, “and anyway we can’t spare money to buy guns.”
“I suppose we can’t, but I’m thinking we may wish we had some before we get through the mountains.”
Raymond turned around to his horse, which he had left standing when he dismounted to give his exhibition of shooting, and was surprised to find that one of the soldiers had the animal in charge and had led him over to the bunch.
“Well, they’ve got my horse, all right. I guess you’ll have to turn yours over too, Sid.”
“I suppose so, but it’s certainly a shame.”