He could not go through with that again! He could not bear it. Better far to finish with the gun what Mike had stopped before.
Softly he slid the gun from the holster, and raised it for action. His finger pressed upon the trigger.
The weapon was dashed suddenly from his hand.
“What the hell!” roared Mike. “You fool, what’s the matter with you?”
“Give—give me that gun!”
“You’re as bad as Baldy Jenkins. Been in the woods all his life—and mistakes a coach whip for a moccasin, just because both of ’em are darkish.
“That wasn’t any more moccasin than a polar bear.... Yes, ’course he struck you. Any snake ’ll do that—but it ain’t always poison. Your arm ain’t even go’ner be sore.
“Never mind about this gun. I’ll give it back to you—later on.”
You’ll Be Thrilled and Mystified
By Hamilton Craigie’s New Novelette