The door opened. Dozier entered, jerked his head squarely to one side, and found himself gazing into the muzzle of a revolver. The astonishment and the swift hardening of his face had begun and ended in a fraction of a second.
"It's you, eh?" he said, still holding the door.
"Right," said Andrew. "I'm here for a little chat about this Lanning you're after."
Hal Dozier paused another heartbreaking second, then he saw that caution was the better way. "I'll have to shut you out for a minute or two, boys. Go down to the bar and have a few on me." He turned, laughing and waving to them. Then the door closed, and Dozier turned slowly to face his hunted man. Into Andrew's mind came back the words of the great outlaw, Allister: "There's one man I'd think twice about meeting, and that—"
"Sit down," said Andrew. "And you can take off your belt if you want to. Easy! That's it. Thank you."
The belt and the guns were tossed onto the bed, and Hal
Dozier sat down. He reminded Andrew of a terrier, not heavy, but all compact nerve and fighting force.
"I'll not frisk you for another gun," said Andrew.
"Thanks; I have one, but I'll let it lie."
He made a movement. "If you don't mind," said Andrew, "I'd rather that you don't reach into your pockets. Use my tobacco and papers, if you wish." He tossed them onto the table, and Hal Dozier rolled his smoke in silence. Then he tilted back in his chair a little. His hand with the cigarette was as steady as a vise, and Andrew, shrugging forward his own ponderous shoulders, dropped his elbows on his knees and trained the gun full on his companion.