“The impetus of his body carried me down. I gave out a yell—just one—and then the scoundrel hit me with the butt of his revolver. That’s all, so far as I’m concerned. When I came to, matters were just as you see them now! And to think,” cried McGowan, “that that was the man I have trusted for all these years! The man who is engaged to marry my girl, Annie! I wish we could hang him!”
From this it will appear that the mine-owner’s eyes had been thoroughly opened.
“What was the matter with that revolver you gave me, McGowan?” went on the scout.
“Matter with it?” demanded McGowan. “Why, nothing. It was one of my own weapons—an arm that I have depended on a dozen times, and it has never failed me. That was the reason I gave it to you.”
“Well, it failed me. Look at it.”
The mine-owner took the revolver from the scout, “broke” it, and looked at the cartridges.
There were six of them, all apparently ready for use.
“Fire it,” said the scout.
McGowan pointed it at the ceiling and pulled the trigger. Only the click of the hammer sounded. He tried five times more; then, with an imprecation, “broke” the piece again, took out one of the cartridges, and twisted out its lead cap.
There was no powder in the shell!