Casey's arm was outstretched, pointed at King's breast. "Draw and defend yourself," he said loudly. He shut his eyes and a little puff of smoke seemed to spring from the ends of his fingers, followed in the fraction of a second by a sharp report.
Benito ran with all his might toward the men. He did not think that King was hit, for the editor turned toward the Pacific Express office. On the threshold he stumbled. A clerk ran out and caught the tall figure as it collapsed.
Benito looked about for King's assailant. He saw a group of men on Washington street, but was unable to distinguish Casey among them, though McGowan's lanky form was visible.
At Benito's feet lay a pocket-memorandum marked with a splash of red. The young man picked it up and read:
"Piano for Annie.
"Crayons for Joe.
"Candy--"
A man with a medicine case shouldered his way in. He was Dr. Hammond. "Get a basin," he ordered, "some warm water." He unbuttoned the wounded man's coat, looking grave as he saw the spreading red stain on his shirt.
"Will he get well, doctor?" shouted a dozen voices.