Jeff's voice rasped again.
"Stand up, darn you! Stand up!"
Sikkem's gaze came back abruptly, and on the instant his right hand flew to his waist for his guns. But the muzzle of Jeff's revolver was within a foot of his head, and behind it his coldly shining eyes.
Sikkem's hand dropped from his waist. He stood up. The law of the gun was powerfully ingrained upon his mind.
"Loose those guns at your waist—quick! Let 'em drop on the bunk!
Quick, or I'll pump you full of lead!"
The deadliness of Jeff's command was irresistible. The power of that leveled gun indisputable. The buckle was loosened, and the weapons fell on the blankets behind the ranchman.
"Now push your hands up! Right up!"
The command was obeyed on the instant, but the look which accompanied the movement was as deadly as human passion could make it.
"Back away! Back to the far end! Sharp!"
Sikkem moved. But his movement was not rapid enough. Jeff urged him.