“It takes practice, lots of it, and then more of it,” said Randall. “It’s worse than useless unless you get it just right. If you made a mistake at the wrong time, the other man would get you sure.”
“Where can I get one of these?” asked Johnny.
“Good!” Randall approved his decision. “You see the necessity. You can’t. But a derringer is about as good, and Jones has them for sale. Now as for your holster gun: the whole trick of quick drawing is to throw your right shoulder forward and drag the gun from the holster with one forward sweep. Don’t lift it up and out. This way!” He snapped his hand past his hip and brought it away armed.
“Pretty,” repeated Johnny.
“Don’t waste much powder and ball shooting at a mark,” advised Randall. “It looks nice to cut out the ace of hearts at ten yards, but it doesn’t mean much. If you can shoot at all, you can shoot straight enough to hit a man at close range. Practise the draw.” He turned to me. “You’d better practise, too. Every man’s got to take care of himself these days. But you’re not due for trouble same as your friend is.”
“I’m obliged to you,” said Johnny.
“You are not. Now it’s up to you. I judged you 277 didn’t know conditions here, and I thought it only right to warn you. There’s lots of good fellows in this camp; and some of the hard cases are a pretty good sort. Just keep organized, that’s all.”
“Now I wonder who Danny Randall is!” speculated Johnny after our visitor had departed. “He talked as though we ought to know all about it. I’m going to find out the first fellow I get acquainted with.”
Next morning we asked the Moreñas who was Danny Randall.
“El diabolo,” replied Moreña shortly; and trudged obstinately away to his work without vouchsafing further information.