“Now, you,” went on Lawless, nodding to De Bray.
“Honest,” quavered De Bray, “I haven’t got more’n a couple of dollars about me!”
“What the blazes is a man dressed like you doing in this country with no more than that? That won’t do. If you don’t want to be sent back East in a box, you’ll strip yourself, and be quick about it. It looks to me as though you thought I didn’t mean business.” Lawless’ passive face twisted itself into a demoniacal expression, and he jerked one of his six-shooters from his sash and leveled it. “I’ll give you just a minute, my friend,” he added, “before I shoot you off that seat!”
“Don’t be too quick with your shooting,” begged De Bray, and immediately began pulling his pockets inside-out.
One of the pockets contained two silver dollars. De Bray flung them down at the trailside.
“I told you!” he exclaimed.
“You’ve got more than that!” snapped Lawless. “Fork over, or I’ll shake a load out of this gun!”
De Bray’s eyes grew glassy, and he shivered.
“I—I did have a little more,” he answered; “but—but——”
“But what?” roared Lawless. “Do you think I’m going to stay here all day, palavering with you?”